If I die in medias res, is this what I want to be doing?
First of all, I don’t want to be here. I know you hear this from 1,563 other 20-year-olds every day. I may be no different from them but I’m determined to do things differently.
In a little more than a year from now, I want to be bathing orphaned chimpanzees rescued from forests destroyed by man, or hearing Bhutanese natives tell their life stories. I want to be taking silly perspective shots on Bolivian salt plains, or kicking up a soccer dust storm with baby elephants. Trek through Iceland, polish up 3 whole pizzas in Naples, walk the streets of San Marino, live in India wearing a sari, chase the northern lights, see Macchu Picchu. And more.
The choices I make now will define me and I refuse to be defined by fear and hesitation. I refuse to grow up making excuses for the person I was 5, 10, 15 years ago. Refuse to be bitter and narrow-minded because I did not meet enough people, hear enough stories, walk in enough shoes—live, enough.
I need to find my story, outside, and I can’t wait for courage to happen. If nothing else, this year and a half in advertising has taught me that nothing is impossible and impossible is nothing. If I need to live, I can find it in myself to do what it takes.
This is a promise to my 25-year-old self, a little more than a year from now. Please kick me if I don’t do this.
Snoop, Sam Gosling