I managed to convince myself that this might be a good idea,
after talking about going on an adventure for so long, it seems high time that
I actually do it. Then I went to sleep and woke up in the middle of the night,
sort of deluded by a weird dream which I can’t remember, and sort of sweating,
thinking, can I really do this. Some people say that they travel to find the
way home. It’s very easy to trust what they said, and be misled to believe that
you’d eventually find what you are looking for, too. However, the truth is,
when you leave home, there wouldn’t be a home to return to. You wouldn’t be
able to travel with everything you have, so you have to sell and get rid of all
the furniture and paint the walls back to its original spotless white so that you’d
get your deposit back. And after you’re done with all the wondering and even
succeed to come back to the same city, you’d have to build everything all over
again.
Some
people say that they set out knowing that they’ll come back stronger and wiser,
better acknowledged and much more experienced. That, I wish I could say I
agree. Unfortunately, I’m never good at having faith. How can you ignore the
possibility that you might wind up dead in the middle of nowhere with all of
your luggage stolen, and the only proof of your identity tossed into the sewer,
and then be known as Dead Asian Number One Five Two?
However,
what I don’t want more, is to die with my complete full name and exact address,
where I am, fifty years from now, when much has changed.
