I am fucking terrified.

That’s the last thing I thought I’d hear myself saying or see myself typing the day before I set off to do this whole ‘travel’ thing I’ve been wunderlusting after for the last 3-4 years.

I’ve been clamouring to get off this rock we call England and away from the sky that forgot it should be blue for so long now… and tomorrow I’m off to Bangkok… and I’m fucking terrified.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared to take a big step in my life; that first day at university was a bit scary, but I was excited about it for the most part. Heading off to India? No problemo, especially because I was going with 15 friends and then breaking away from the group to travel solo was pretty easy, too. Flying off to America on my own was a little piece of cake. But this trip, this time really takes the cake.

I’ve been planning this so long, preparing for so long and now I’m here I feel like my toes are about ready to fall off because I’ve never had cold feet like this before.

I’m sitting in my AirBnB room, alone for the first time in a long time as I’ve spent the last month or so staying with my uncle, aunt and cousins who I hadn’t really seen for years. I’ve never really been all that close to family and preferred my own company, but circumstances led to me having to take up home in that full house, where I got very little done and decided an AirBnB the night before I left would be the best course for finising thins up and getting used to being alone.

It’s going to take more than a little getting used to by the looks of it.

I’ve got used to not getting things done so I can play Super Mario Bros Wii with the little one and throw her behind me so I can get all th coins and making Toad noises. I’ve got used to sitting with the girls and binging on Prison Break and getting freaked out it’s been 10 years since that first aired. I’ve got used to sitting up and watching TV with my uncle till the early hours, hearing him make constant jests and eventually a diamond would shine amongst some of the more obvious ones and it would be the funniest thing ever.

I’ve got used to having a family.

And I’m gutted to be sitting in this big, empty room on my own today and knowing that tomorrow I won’t be sitting in that room making stupid noises and watching TV and eating with them for what seems to be a long time.

God, this was all a lot easier when I was a volatile loner.

It’s all happening so fast and everything is changing that I can barely keep up.

Last night I said my goodbyes to my cousins in my roundabout way with a good dose of humour to block out the sadness, hearing them leave this morning as I slept on the sofa. I started to pack my stuff properly and took off my favourite cardigan which felt like some kind of a second skin… it felt like home.

I packed it away and replaced it with the down jacket I bought (even though I’ve always planned on going to hot countries because I’m smart in the idiotic kind of way). I put on my new glasses and I kicked off my Nikes that have been carrying me around for years and put on my new Vivobarefoot shoes. I put on my new backpack with all my new things and my uncle walked me to the bus stop carrying my older backpack full of more new things, wearing it on his back as if he was coming with me.

We stood waiting for the bus and he gave me some last words that I listened to and then as the bus came into sight, I clung to. It felt like nobody was going anywhere when we were together in that house, and as the bus came to a stop and opened its doors it hit me that we’re not going anywhere together anymore.

I’ve packed my new backpack, emptied out my old one and I’ve hung up my new – and only – clothes up to wear tomorrow. Since I started selling off my clothes or giving them away to charity, I’ve not had a lot of stuff and it always felt good to get rid of what was left. But wearing this down jacket as I type this in someone else’s bed with all these new clothes I’ve never worn hanging up waiting for me tomorrow?

It feels weird. I’m not sure if it feels right.

I’ve envisioned this moment for a long time, where I shed my old skin, my past and my demons and become someone else, someone I used to be, someone I missed and want to be… and I couldn’t wait for this moment when it was THAT moment. But now it feels like I’m leaving something important behind.

I wanted to go abroad to ‘find myself’… but now I feel like I’m becoming lost just for going.

Nerves. Kenny doesn’t really do this.
But here I am doing this.

Maybe I’m out of touch, maybe I’ve got too comfortable… maybe this is exactly why I need to get on that plane tomorrow and prove to myself this isn’t such a big dea and this isn’t such a bad idea. Maybe travelling has already paid off since it’s had me get back in touch and fall in love with my family all over again and learn to appreciate them and London in a way that I never would have if I didn’t decide to do this.

This whole thing has suddenly become less about escaping and more about… well, even I don’t know that yet. At the moment it’s more about feeling the fear and doing it anyway and shutting up that voice in the back of my head telling me this is a bad idea. Maybe I’ll ‘find myself’ as I figure all that out.

But I guess now I think about it, it’s nice to know that either way and no matter what happens out there… I have something to come back to.