Reflecting, last night.
Tonight is the officially last night of our grand journey. It all ends tomorrow, comes to a stop in my home town, the small town of Imatra on the Russian border. That's where this all began not more than just seven months ago, which at some point seemed like a forever infused with an eternity and at some point a fraction of a second. Regardless, the hour glass is empty, the grains are gone and all that's left is reflections.
A few days ago I finally discovered the meaning of this journey for me. It wasn't about realizing my dream about travelling, if it would've been I would have chosen other destinations. It wasn't about becoming indepent – I have been independent for a long time already, because that's what I've been raised to be. It wasn't about meeting new people, gaining new friends – my previous year, the first year of my studies, was a great year for that. It wasn't about new experiences, extreme sports, trying out new things – I'm curious by nature, so I don't need to set out to experience, to feel.
It was about a small piece of paper with letters scribbled in black pink, written by a finally steady hand. A page torn out of a travelling notebook with barely any emotional value. A list.
I had always thought I had planned my life well and thoroughly. Every piece of my life's puzzle was already fitted with each other and everything seemed to be in place. And I guess they were in place but they were not me.
I wrote a five-item list. It tells what I want my life to be like in 10 years. I had never actually given it any thoughts, I just went with the present, trying to forget some of the past, not really concentrating on the future. This list I wrote is, in my opinion, the epitome of my youth turning into adulthood.