As I prepare to settle down in front of the screen and type all of my thoughts, I feel like I have the words I want to use in order to express myself. Then when I finally have my fingers resting on top of the keys, I hesitate. When I do type something, I stop and wonder if what I just wrote was good enough. I know I am not writing journal entries to please other people. Of course, they’re for me, yet when it comes to typing my inner thoughts, feelings, and emotions, many of the words that come to my mind are simply not good enough.

When I think about traveling and the adventure I am to embark on this summer, I can feel an indescribable excitement surging through me. Really, in order to know what I feel like, you have to be me. I also feel impatience and apprehension. It is impatience because, well, I want my vacation today or tomorrow; apprehension, because of my expectations and hopes for what I want this summer to be. My brother thinks I am silly and immature because my priorities are not his priorities. He ridicules me because I have a passion for exploration and learning about foreign cultures. On the other hand, I spent most of my life sheltering myself, literally scared of life and not experiencing it to the extent many other children were able to reach. In a way, traveling is my way of breaking free, to venture into other worlds and experience something that is soley my experience and nobody else’s. As children, people are able to roam free and learn about the world, playing with their peers without a care in the world. I never played sports, joined any clubs, or took part in activities which most kids were involved. I was most likely that little girl you saw at Disneyland hysterically wailing at the sight of Mickey Mouse or Goofy. Heck, I never got my picture taken with Santa Clause until I was thirteen-years-old. So while I am still young and free of many responsibilities, why shouldn’t I be able to enjoy what I love doing most? There is more to life than slaving through college and delving into a career that ties you down. I am sure that humans were not meant to spend eight hours every day in an office. Sure, I am using a cliché, but isn’t it true that many people spend their lives stuck in a job they absolutely detest while hoping that something better comes along?