L'inquietude

I leave in four days.

Am I excited about going? Sure. But really I feel as though I am about to die. I'm not sure why I associate such a drastic change with death... I think it's mostly fear of the unknown. I can't see what's ahead of me. I don't know what's out there, I have no concept of what my everyday life will be like...

I'm not finished packing, of course, but I'm getting there. Christmas is wedged right in the middle of it all, so it's not like I have a lot of time to get things done. Just as long as I have the essentials, I'll survive, and I'm trying to keep that in mind as I pack. All I really need for travelling is money, a passport, ID, and clean socks and underwear. Then I'm set!

. . .

Should I die on my excursion (or at any point), my only wish is that my final words are profoundly hilarious.