Occasionally a thought passes trough my mind and it nags at me until I want to pull my hair out.
Lately it’s been this pressing thought of not being good enough.
I found the box that holds the cards I received from my high school graduation. I read through the cards and suddenly found myself breaking down because I felt like I had failed all of these people.
At that time I had high hopes of attending Liberty University for four years and graduating with a degree in government. Now, now I’m moving to New York to follow my dreams and my heart.
To put it simply, I’m terrified. I’ve lost three people that wrote me cards in that box. Three people that I know are watching my life from heaven and still rooting for me. People that believe in me.
So now I merely have to believe in myself.
Which as we all know is harder than one thinks.
I’m a traveller. At least, I love travelling, but being a college student in a tiny town, that doesn’t leave much to travel on.
I’ve been to Canada, France, Ireland, and England. My list of places to visit is a much longer one.
I used to want to live in England, still do in fact. I loved London, loved the city so much that I wanted to stay and never look back.
That’s part of why I think I’m moving to New York City. Yes, yes, I’m attending the Film Academy, but it’s more than that. For so many years, twenty-three to be exact, I have live in a tiny town in Virginia, feeling like I am stuck here, never being able to move forward. But now I am.
I have the chance to recreate myself, to be the person I’ve always wanted to be. To be a different, happier, me. There are things of course that I could never change, would never want to change. I will always love Star Trek, and cry over X-Men:First Class. Pride and Prejudice will always fight with The Hobbit over being my favourite book. Benedict Cumberbatch will forever be my favourite Sherlock. I’ll always own too many books and not enough bookshelves. Those things are what I have gladly allowed to shape me, and I will never be sorry for those things.
But moving to a different city where no one may know my name? It’s freeing. There I can be an aspiring actress/writer, working on her first novel as she works her bum off to get to where she wants to be. Heck, maybe I’ll find writing to be my niche and end up doing that.
Because honestly, that’s where the travelling comes in. I can’t write about a girl who met her best friend in Spain if I’ve never been. I can’t capture the awe of the Colosseum if I’ve never been dwarfed by it.
Travelling opens up the door to adventure, and honey, I grab adventure by the horns.