The day has finally come and I know that I should be over the moon excited - and don't get me wrong, I totally am - but for some reason I am much more anxious than I am excited. I don't know what it is… Heck, I went to Spain all by myself when I was 16 years old and had no problems with that, so why am I suddenly nervous about this?
Honestly, I am ecstatic about this new adventure! Italy has been one of my dream destinations for a while (along with Australia and Texas) for as long as I can remember - or more realistically since my Hilary Duff obsession and when I first watched the Lizzie McGuire movie. Something about Italy just seems so magical. I am so excited to meet new people, explore new places, and have the experience of a lifetime! However, with that being said, I still am hesitant to pack up and go…
Quite frankly, I have athazagoraphobia - the fear of being forgotten. I think that the reason that I am so uneasy with going abroad is because I am scared that people are going to forget about me. Last semester at LMU was probably the best semester of my entire educational career. I loved everything about last semester - yes, even the school aspect. The main reason that I loved last semester so much was that I finally found people whom I truly consider to be my best friends.
These people are not just the "best friends" that I get lunch with every now and then, take pictures with at events, or send a long sentimental happy birthday text to. These best friends are the people that I wanted to hang out with after a bad day; the people who I actually wanted to tell about the good, bad, and random things that were happening in my life; the people with whom there were no awkward silences. I finally felt like I found people who I cared about that cared about me just as much - no hesitations, limitations, or stipulations.
All of my life I have been longing for these kinds of best friendships. Before moving away from Sacramento, I had this kind of best friend (and still consider her to be my best friend - just in a long distance relationship type way), but friendships in Oregon proved to be different. When I moved to Oregon, I just wanted to find friends - and fast - so I was always acting like someone I wasn't just to fit in. In the end, it was all of this fake-ness that caused me to spiral into the whole clinical depression thing.
With that being said, it has taken me a really, really long time to find people who I feel actually care about me for me. I thank God everyday for finally connecting me with these people, but I question why He put us together only to send me away. I guess I'm just worried that people are going to forget about me and replace me with other people - like most other people have in the past.
Anyways, I'm done with this pity party. Moral of the story: please don't forget about me while I'm gone.
Ready or not, it's time to go! Italy, here I come!
Sincerely yours,
Just Another Original
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