USA: The Great Memory Foam Mattress

Before I left for England, I had never been outside the US. I had never owned a passport and was content to live the rest of my days and its travels cradled in the cozy boarders of Manifest Destiny.

But studying abroad for a year and traveling to various countries stretched my comfort zone to the point that being the US is uncomfortable; even England would now be uncomfortable. It is like lying wide-awake for hours on a memory foam mattress. Yes, the mattress is the single most comfortable object my body has ever drooled upon, but after an hour, I have never been more uncomfortable in my life. And if I do not get out of bed, then the mattress will soon catch fire from the friction of my restlessness, burning me in the combustion.

The US is too easy. There’s no challenge. I’m stuck, static, not growing. Of course, there are the trials of every day life. Those exist no matter where you go— the stress of the day-to-day, family, school, work, that haunting, incessant feeling of, Am I truly living? Even so, it’s too easy. Don't get me wrong; I do not want my life to suddenly crash into doomsday and havoc to come raining down. I want the challenge of a new country, a new culture, a new mindset, a new landscape. There is so much world out there, and I want to go there.

I am tired of seeing, hearing, reading of this world through travel blogs, magazines, newspapers, radio, films, and the worst, damn calendar pictures. I don’t want to be told or shown. I want to go there myself, take the pictures myself, write the articles myself, create my own damn calendar.

I stare at maps like a mother stares at her newborn baby, seeing nothing but hopes and dreams and possibilities through the eyes of purest wonder. I want to go there.

And there.

And there.

And there!

I want to know this world for all that it contains.

I want these maps to be my autobiography.

I want to grab a backpack and a plane ticket and GO!

If I was a superhero, I'd wear a map as my cap.