A wanderlust confession.

2 Jan

For the past several weeks I’ve come to the conclusion that, when I graduate college, I want to travel to New Zealand. This is nothing new. I’ve written Facebook statuses and Tumblr entries about this multiple times, even reaching out to a few people to join me in my travels. In the end, I’ve decided that, if/when I go, I’m going to go by myself. I’m in the process of saving up money for my travels right now, and I have a considerable amount stowed away already. My dad would get me the plane ticket there as a graduation gift.

As of late, however, I’ve been consumed with this daydream of packing up and moving to New Zealand for a year. I’ve already got one freelance writing job that pays me on occasion, and I find myself hoping that they’ll start paying me full time again. If this were the case, I’d be making enough money to easily live off of for an entire year. So I could go to New Zealand, write, and travel all around the country. I could rent a cheap apartment to live in, and then on weekends travel around and see the countryside. It’s a small country, after all. Maybe meet a nice Kiwi boy and have a fling at some point. Go skiing, go hiking, meet people, interact with the culture, eat plenty of good food, and learn how to live. It’d be wonderful and beautiful and I would be free.

God, that’s all I want right now. I want out of this town. I want out of this school. I want to write. I want to live. I want to be free.

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