One of my high school friends is spending the semester in Ecuador. She’s concurrently studying and doing service work. Last year, another high school friend spent a semester in Spain. That friend went the farthest away for college of my high school friends.
The first friend already appears to be having an amazing time. The second friend always has raving stories of his experiences.
I don’t know why I can’t relate. I’ve done more traveling in the past two years than I ever would’ve imagined. Virginia, El Salvador, Keystone, Seattle, New Orleans, Denver, soon-to-be Tuscon. I’ve lived in Indianapolis for a summer completely on my own. My parents saw it once when they picked me up for our vacation in Alabama.
Yet, I still feel like I’m missing out. It’s not that I have a strong desire to live far away. In fact, my plan for as long as I can remember was to end up back in Fort Wayne. And I still very much like that plan.
There’s still something missing. I am confined by my current choices.
If I were to accept a job in Fort Wayne, I would live at home for a year, because my parent’s proposed rent is cheaper than anywhere else. Plus free recently upgraded fi-os internet, “free” food and more importantly preparation, and free utilities.
I think therein lies the problem. I don’t want to live at home.
I just don’t think I can convince myself that moving out is okay.