Leaving is the easiest thing in the world to do. Saying goodbye is the hard part.


I don't remember where I first heard that quote, or some variant of it, but I so clearly recall how it resonated within me. How I was struck with that sudden realization: that's so true!

I'm obsessed with the idea of travel. When I picture myself in the next five years, it's somewhere new and exciting, a place I've never been. I'm overcome with an almost anxious feeling - I worry if I'll have the time to see it all, since I'm expected to go right into college and then immediately into a career, just like we all are. I'm not given time to wonder if there's anything more, because as far as we're concerned, there isn't. This is the way it's always been. After high school, you go to a respectable university. You earn your four-year degree, and you spend the rest of your life searching for the career that will prove to your parents that you were a worthwhile investment, and to society that you are doing your part. You've made somethng of yourself. Right?

I'm lucky to be blessed with a fairly narrow view of the future - the farthest ahead I make plans is about two to three days, so I've not yet worried much about the time I will or won't have to pursue my wanderlust. Instead, I worry about the act of travelling itself. I know that I want to go, but how can I? A house doesn't make a home, and any locale, no matter how beautiful, is empty without a familiar face. I picture myself saying goodbye to the people closest to my heart, and every time I feel it jump. I try not to think about it, but as I rapidly approach the middle of my senior year it's getting harder and harder to avoid the inevitable.

Buddhists believe that suffering permeates everything; the only way to escape is through detachment. To let go of all worldly attachments, to distance oneself from emotion and desire. I admire and envy them. Emotional attachment is the root of my anxiety. As far as I'm concerned, it's as heavy as a chain keeping me locked in one place, unable to move away. To love is to be weak; to surrender oneself to someone else, whose own feelings could change in an instant. Love is an anchor; it turns one's legs to stone. It drowns us.