the weighty beast

i left the places i knew, ambitions high, hopes higher, expectations highest.

i was okay with leaving the places i knew for the time being.

after all, i had been preparing for this for weeks, months, years.

i had bid the appropriate farewells.

my relationships with friends and family were solid.

i knew how i would go about keeping in touch.

the place i was going - i had studied it thoroughly.

i knew what to expect.

i had surveyed its history.

i had examined its geography.

i had learned about its culture.

i had kept up with its news.

i had been there before.

i was ready for the experience of foreign living and studying.

i felt mature.

i felt responsible.

i felt flexible.

i felt low-maintenance.

i felt travel-savvy.

i felt that these qualities would serve me well in my upcoming experiences.

i knew what i wanted.

i wanted to experience the local culture firsthand.

i wanted to get to know the university.

i wanted to get to know the city.

i wanted to travel.

* * *

a month later,

reality looks me in the face.

i swivel my head toward it.

heart pounding, fists clenched, and knuckles white, i meet its gaze.

it's painful. it's weighty. it's real.

under the brutality of its inquisition, some of the things that I felt and thought and knew a month ago are reduced to dust. some things are cracked and shaken, but still there. some things stand strong. some things are totally immune, because they were in fact real from the get-go.

it's a harrowing procedure. it's a terrifying process.

i will count it joy.