The moment I stepped away from the map, my heart was beating faster than usual—like it already knew something my mind hadn't fully accepted yet.
Travel the world?Leave everything behind?It sounded impossible… and yet, strangely right.
I walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside. Outside, the street looked the same as always—people rushing, engines humming, life repeating. But for the first time, I felt disconnected from it all, like I was watching a movie instead of living it.
A small voice inside whispered:
"If you don't go now, you'll never go."
I didn't argue.I didn't overthink.I simply opened my cupboard and pulled out my old travel backpack—the same one I used for weekend trips but had never taken beyond a few towns.
It felt heavier than I remembered, not because of weight but because of what it symbolized: change.
I emptied the shelves. Clothes. Notebooks. A camera I had forgotten I even owned. Every item I picked up seemed to ask me a question:
"Do you really need me?"
For the first time, I understood the truth:To see the world, I didn't need much—just courage and a beginning.
I packed only the essentials:A few shirts, a pair of worn-out jeans, basic toiletries, a water bottle, the old camera, and the notebook I planned to fill with stories.
When I zipped the backpack, the sound echoed through the room like a promise.
Then came the hardest part—telling my family and friends.But even as I dialed their numbers, my hands didn't shake.A part of me already belonged to the road.
By evening, everything was ready.
No trip booked yet, no plan, not even a destination.Just a backpack, a dream, and a decision strong enough to change everything.
As the sun set, I placed the backpack by the door.
Tomorrow, I would choose my first country.Tonight, I let myself feel the quiet excitement of a life finally expanding.
The journey had already begun.