There is something about the courage of others that makes us extremely nervous. It calls into question every safe decision we’ve ever made, and forces us to ask what we’re really protecting when we do things in the most comfortable way possible. [...]
The biggest regrets we have [...] are the decisions we don’t make because we think we’re guaranteed something. We choose college because we think we’re guaranteed a job. We choose staying home because we think not traveling guarantees more money. We choose not leaving our hometown because we think it guarantees us friends and comfort. We choose to stay in unfulfilling relationships because we think it guarantees we will never be alone. [...]
And then we are confronted with the reality that none of this was ever guaranteed, and we only gave up on the thrill of our dreams because we were too afraid to see what else was possible. We convinced ourselves that we were investing in something, when all we were doing was excusing our cowardice.
in The Things You Will Always Regret If You Don't Do Them by Charlotte Green
I was thinking about having to save money, about it being too great a risk, about not being able to do it on my own. Then I spoke to my friend for a long time and, as always, she had the answers. Or rather, she knew how to ask the right questions. I went online and proceeded to book the ticket to London for 4 days. Because why not. Because I shouldn't fear my own capacity to discover what is new. Because that is why I left home, after all. Not to study at some silly hippy university that can't provide paper to its students during exams and doesn't even have a remotely decent library. Not to get into student debt for the first time in my life. Not to miss my people so very much. No. I left to see the new.
And now my attempt at adventure has been foiled by a tiny fact: lack of a credit card. Should I not be rewarded for my wanting to pay it all by debit? Hah. No. Anyways. New plan. New destination. Kopenhagen can be reached by train. And the Bahn accepts my card. Always onward, tilting at inner windmills.