I was at work sitting on an old squeaky chair, facing my dated soon-to-be-thrown-out desk, looking at the same papers and pens I had for the past eight months when I suddenly had a glimpse of my future.
I saw myself three years from now, still working in the same run down office, sitting in the old chair, counting down the hours until I could go home. The same thing, same place every day because that’s what a full time job is about.
It was this image of a socially acceptable cage built out of trivial responsibilities and utter dullness that ignited cold and brutal panic in me, the kind that makes you want to do something drastic and stupid because at least then you’d free of the boring foreseeable future of steady pay checks and zero creativity.
I took one more look at my square surroundings, so unlike me and confining, and I felt completely sure that a lifetime of settling was never going to be enough. If I stayed, I would have to let go of what I wanted for what I thought I needed to do.
There were so many things I wanted to do, so many places I wanted to escape to, places that would take my breath away and teach me about culture and people. I wanted to see the Machu Pichu, to walk for three days until I made it to the top and took in the view of this forgotten city. I wanted to dive into the beaches of Mikonos in Greece and float in the water; to live in New York City, backpack through Europe.
It wasn’t just about traveling to all the beautiful places in the world, but to find wonder and adventure in everything I did, whether it was going on two month trip or just visit the art museum I pass by every day to work.
A whole world of beauty and discoveries was just at arm’s reach, far away from the socially accepted and the cookie cutter idea of what life should be. It was full of amazing things, great or small, created by God and men, all equal in their splendour.