Morning came with a soft glow—the kind that makes everything feel new, even the familiar. I woke before my alarm, almost as if my mind didn't want to waste a single second of this new beginning.
My backpack waited near the door, quietly reminding me that today was the day I would choose where my journey would truly begin.
But the world is vast.Too vast.A million places, a thousand possibilities.
Where does one start when the entire Earth is open?
I made a cup of tea and sat by the window with my notebook. On the first page, I wrote only one line:
"Where does my story begin?"
Then I wrote down the countries that had lived in my imagination for years:
1. Japan — for its calm, tradition, and neon nights
2. Italy — for art, history, and streets full of stories
3. Peru — for mountains older than memory
4. New Zealand — for landscapes that look borrowed from dreams
5. Morocco — for colours, spices, and ancient markets
6. Canada — for its vast wilderness, etc.
But choosing a place wasn't just about desire.It was about the feeling—the one that makes your chest tighten and your heart whisper "go."
And then it came.
A single image flashed in my mind:A sunrise over a city I had never seen, yet felt strangely connected to.
Tokyo.
The electric lights, the temples, the food, the culture, the rhythm—everything pulled me toward it.
Without thinking twice, I opened my laptop, searched for flights, and found a one-way ticket leaving in two days. My finger hovered over the "Book Now" button.
Fear tried to speak, but excitement drowned it out.
Click.Confirmed.
Just like that, the dream turned into reality.
I leaned back in my chair and exhaled slowly. For the first time in years, the future didn't feel heavy. It felt wide open—like a road stretching past the horizon.
This wasn't just a trip.It was the start of a life I had always wanted but never believed I could live.
And in two days, I would take my first step onto foreign ground, carrying nothing but a backpack and the courage to rewrite my story.