I’m here.
But it still doesn’t feel like it. It doesn’t feel right or real.
But I’m here.

At Heathrow Terminal 2, waiting to board a plane back to Bangkok. Back to almost a decade ago, to that place I landed at the start of my journey, and the last time I actually wrote in this blog. I remember those days preceding the flight and everything that came after very well, almost like it was yesterday. When I was such a different person.

I was more sociable, hopeful, optimistic and Bright-eyed. More invested in adventure and moving on from the darkness of the past and on to a brighter future.

Somewhere sunny, like Thailand.

And here I’m sat, 10 years later, feeling like a completely different person; not quite knowing what I’m doing here, or why I’m flying out. Clinging  to the safety and familiarity of the mental prison and poisons I have become so intoxicated with.

But one thing I remember feeling, thinking and writing in my blog way back then:

“I am fucking terrified.”

Looks like I’m not so different after all.

I’ve arrived in Bankok in one piece, but my plans (and I use the word ‘plan’ very lightly here) are kind of falling to pieces. Nothing overly drastic, but give it 10 minutes and I’m sure that’ll change – like the weather here – and I’ll screw something up! I’ve already exceeded my expectations on that front.

Clearly I’m not going to be writing expert guides and tips on what to do here like every other travel blog on the net, and since I’m my only audience I might as well write for me and give a few tips:

1: Prepare for getting abroad

As in don’t just book a load of things with your eyes closed and then jump on a plane within a few weeks. I’d suggest getting everything done at least 2 months before, because that way you can spread the nervous feeling out over quite a long time and you’ll soon realise how crap England is instead of not wanting to leave and latching on as if it’s you mother’s leg and she’s forcing you to to school for the first time in your life and abandoning you to this classroom full of weird strangers.

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.

It’s yet another grey, dark and wet day in London. I’m always angry at the weather, looking up at the sky with a frown and cursing the clouds, a hood over my head and two scarves tugging at my neck… but my mind quickly turns to sunshine, and in the Thai embassy I just came out of, it’s not too difficult because I’m sweating. Too many people are piled into here and I’m stripping myself of layers. I look around and see and old man on crutches, some younger girls with plenty of makeup on, a mother next to me with an adorable, new-born and blue eyed baby challenging me to a staring contest that I know I’ll win. There’s no room to move; just enough air to breathe but I can feel the excitement already. I feel like I’m on my way, I feel like we’re all starting our adventure here.

I give over my receipt at counter three to one of the unhappy looking girls working here, who flips through a few passports and I see my face. She picks it up and hands me back my new passport, with my new name in it, and inside is my new visa which is the first thing to take up anything on a page in there. The first of many, I hope, and the sign of a new beginning. I guess it’s only appropriate that I follow suit and (finally) make my first post here, pen a little digital ink on the first page of my digital book.