Traveling Alone: Writing This All Down
Contributor
Written by
Nicole Cruz
September 2018
Writing
Contributor
Written by
Nicole Cruz
September 2018
Writing

The Decision

There’s a reason why I tend to listen more to what my friends say.

I’ve just booked an AirBnB (hashtag not sponsored, but hashtag helpful) in the “City of Pines” and I’ve already packed my bags. The decision to travel alone have always been a dream of mine. The feeling of indepedence, the sense of freedom it gave me, motivated me to finally travel alone. 

The plan was simple: pack my bags, book a place, and search for my soul. 

Ever since I was dumped by the guy whose name I will no longer utter in any form, I’ve been burying myself deeper and deeper in a hole. This particular hole scares me. It scares me in a way that, if I fall down, I might go back to a past self that really cared more what the guy wanted than what I wish for. 

The Plan

The first phase of my elaborate travel plan was to pack my bags. I’m bringing a back pack to carry four days worth of clothes and underwears, accesories (because I need to accessorize), my hiking shoes, my stiletto (just in case), and my tablet where I usually do all my writings when I’m mobile. I wanted to pack light, but since I’m a control freak, I packed all the things I might not actually use on this trip (think matches). I left all other baggages in my closet and I want them to stay there for as long as I can keep them there.

The second part was to book the perfect place where my body and spirit could truly rest. It took me forever to sort out a bunch of possible places I could stay in. It had to be perfect. I scanned a lot of lodgings, rooms, and hotels in my search for the “one.” I finally out in said mobile application. It was a hilltop home with a great view of the mountainside. The lady who owned the place was kind enough to give me the room with the best view. 

Lastly, I wanted to look for my soul. 

To be completely honest, I am broken. I may not show it and I may not write it, but deep within my skin hides an extertior made of broken glass. I lost myself in the eyes of the one I thought would be protecting me and I never managed to get out. I wanted to look for my core again, I wanted to find a new purpose other than being a slave to my own feelings. 

The End

With all things considered, I am ready to take the very first step to self healing. I want to share this journey with all who felt left out and hurt. I wanted to write this for everyone who felt the urge to heal. I will heal myself using my writing. 

Would you join me?

Let's be friends

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