Revelations.

You know. They always say "it doesn't matter whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game." I have a very honest question.

What if you don't know how to play the game?

A new chapter of my life is about to begin, I'm going to Italy for three and a half months in eleven days, and I'm terrified. You'd think it be about the stuff like 'well, my family's here. I'm going to miss them', 'how will I manage over there without my friends?' or 'will I really be able to pack all of that in one suitcase?' But it's not. In fact, I haven't even started packing my suitcase yet, and I can't wait to have practically no internet connection, because it'll give me the opportunity to see what's out there. I can't wait to get away from everything, yet I have no clue what I'm doing.

What I'm honestly terrified about is changing. Not changing, exactly, but a lack of change.

My entire life, up until this point, has been about pleasing someone else. Always. My mother once told me that I was a selfish person, that I only thought about myself, but in all honesty, she was one of the main culprits of my constant need to appease people. Please don't misunderstand me, I love my mother, dearly, but she never gives me the chance to miss her. I've hurt people. Time and time again, because I was always trying to please someone else, focusing too much energy on that other force, and not enough on certain ones. It's cost me dearly, but I'm finally putting my foot down, damn it. For once, in my life, I am going to be selfish.

I'm going away. For three and a half months. I'm going to take every waking second that I possibly can to discover the me that I don't even know. I've made vows of rediscovery, almost every year and every summer I do. Each time, I learn a little bit about myself, but this time, this is different.

I only really know one side of my family. My italian side. I'm only an eighth, but with the family I grew up in, you'd never know it. Hell, my last name even looks italian, though it's 100 percent polish. The thought of being over there, being where my history is, being where my ancestors lived and thrived, it honestly brings me to tears. I want to drink it in. I want to see what they saw, I want to understand what they loved. I want to be able to come back, visit my great-great grandmother's grave, kneel before her and thank her for the life she has given me, for the doors she has opened, and for showing me her beautiful home. I never knew her. She died just before I was born, but sometimes, I honestly feel like she's here with me. Helping me stay true to my beliefs, just like she did.

I need this trip. I need to get out of here. I need to reconnect. I need to rediscover. I need to let go. I need to grow.

And deep down, I'm terrified it will never happen. I'm terrified that I'll leave this country, come back, and be the same exact person that I was when I left. I'm terrified I'll be the same mouse of a girl who can't stand up to her parents, even when I know something isn't right. I'm terrifed that I'm going to be stuck in New York for my entire life, never knowing what the rest of the country looks like. I'm terrified I'll never be loved in the way I know I have loved others. I'm terrified that I'll never have the opportunity to talk to him, to profess my undying love, to marry him, and to start a beautiful family with him, whoever he may be. I fear that my ultimate goal of becoming a mother will never be fulfilled.

All such petty fears, all stemming from one trip. It's ridiculous, but I can't help the fears that haunt me at night.

I'm terrified that even though I might be given the whirlwind romance that I crave, I may never be able to stop comparing whoever he is to you.

That's right. This is taking that turn, because ultimately, this is what has been tormenting me the most. I loved you. With all of my heart, I loved you. You filled that void in my chest that still feels physically there. You stole my heart, you locked it in a chest and you threw away the damn key, refusing to give it back. I waited for you. Even when I lied to myself, and said I was through, I waited for you. Even when I told myself I could let you go, that I could live the life I was meant to live, I couldn't help but compare them all to you. How you did it, I'll never know, and clearly, you won't either, because you never let me love you. You never gave me the chance. I could have rocked your mother-fucking world, but she was right. You're a coward. I want to loathe you. I do. But in the end, I can't help but want you. I want to keep you, to be your friend, but it's torture. I give you miles, you give me inches. You're not worth my time, but you still have that key, buried in stages of your own life. I want it back, damn it. I want to let you go. I want to move on as you clearly have.

And as soon as I get on that plane, I want to forget you. I want to forget why I loved you. I want to forget the reasons why I devoted so much of my time to you. I need this trip, because I need to forget you. I need to forget a lot of things. I need my freedom back.

And I'll be damned if I let anyone hold me down.

For the next three and a half months, I'm making a promise to myself. I will live freely. Unbridled and untamed. I will let the world see the me that was meant to be seen, not the me that you all wanted to see, not the me that you all wanted to fit into your cookie-cutter lifestyle. I am a unique individual. I will find the beauty in all of this, and I will do my best to live each moment to the fullest while keeping everything in check and being safe. For the next three months, I'm shedding my reservations.

All I can say, is this: Italy? Bring it on, bitch. I'm ready.