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This has been a long, difficult yet incredible road.

And I can make it, take it, grow from it.

This makes me so very warm inside.

Amen, amen, amen.

PS: Remember this? Me too.

Love.

I have my doubts of what is to come…

I just. I just don’t know.

My experiences here have been absolutely invigorating.

I don’t know how I’ll ever leave this life behind.

I am becoming more independent, I am becoming stronger. These minutes that I have spent wondering have become my enemy, and ultimately now, my affirmation.

I must be doing something right.

If I had to begin to describe all of the meanings of life running their course through my mind during this past month, I couldn’t. I didn’t know I could fall in love with the world like this. I’ve been sitting in a field of the green grass of scholars, recurrently accepting these asymmetrical strides amidst a revered town. I’ve been watching the clouds pass, and I’ve been thinking.

Not long ago I was seated on a plane, flying over an attractive landscape and meanwhile, reexamined my days and the good fortune that has cloaked my being. I’ve seen more than I needed to make me feel progress, love, and warmth of the untried. It’s a spectacular altering, to feel the negativity slip from your mind as thoughts enrich, and even better now, already I know the best is still to come along.

The more this curiosity sparks, my desire to sustain a intrepid lifestyle grows. I miss no home and persist to reinforce the penchant of a life on the move. Changing scenery keeps my eyes wide and whisks my thoughts, challenges my conclusions to places I thought once implausible. The pen is moving, pages filled with distractions and details of the ordinary. I am inspired, I can taste life.

And I pray not to ever, ever forget the glory of it all.

What’s so cool about me? I look good on paper. I’m young, and somewhat eccentric, and I can fit into skinny jeans and overhead storage compartments. Some days I see my name written and think, “Who’s she?” or “What’s that?” It’s hard being a girl with two first names, or a first name as a last name, or the other way around. I don’t know. At least my name’s not Kristen. Then again, I’m really not that cool.

I don’t seem to write anymore, because I can’t find that tingling sensation in the words as often as I could before. It’s just a rut, I say, or something like wiping out at the Skatium. Painful, humiliating at best, then you make your slow recovery. I am frightened of being judged, truth be told. Is this mic on? And where am I? Halfway across the world, that’s where.

So I took a hot shower to forget my troubles, of over packing and overspending and overeating a ton of under seasoned food. All of those ‘overs’ and not much to show but fewer pounds in my pocket and more on my waist. I could walk 19 miles a day and blow it all on an oatey bar and a cheap glass of wine. At least I got to see Tolkien’s house. At least I’m living.

You know what’s scary? I’m living here, and I can’t come home. Back when I was in Moorhead, I’d be out and about during the day and think, “Hmm, I’m tired, I’m going to go home.” Or if I got really burnt out and needed a “vacation,” the Magic City was hours away. What do you do here, when you feel these things? You log on to Skype and hope that someone picks up the phone. Hello? Anyone…? Echoes. Back to eating my oatey bar.

I love living here. I do. I do I do! There’s orange chocolate, and I get called “Love” on a regular basis. Not only that, I am sitting in a pool of history, entertainment, and good looking men. I’m not homesick, and my bank account’s not empty yet. I’m going to keep on trucking. Yes. Because if I don’t enjoy this experience, drink my weight in tea, and wreak America upon (more or less) Western Europe…well…

The Queen’s not going to do it (God save her). And my best friend that doesn’t fly in airplanes is not going to do it (unless he drives his submarine here). So I suppose that leaves…

Hmm. Me?

You know, it’s a good thing my name’s not Kristen.

I am so blessed to be here.