I Remember Learning How to Dive

So, I am one of those people that is really all for doing something until it actually gets here. I believe I want to lead an outrageous life until it comes knocking, and then all I want to do is curl back up in my comfortable little hole I've created for myself and tell life to go away. I make myself believe that I am not happy doing what I am doing, so I pursue something else and am usually proud of myself when I actively work toward it, and then I get scared to death. "Okay, nevermind! I'm happy! I take it back!"

This has happened to me many times, the worst of which being when I decided to apply for an internship in Holland. I was terrifically excited about it when I got accepted, and even up until the week prior to my flight out. When it came to the night before, however, if certain people hadn't forced me to keep packing, I am sure I would have spilled all the contents of my luggage on my bedroom floor and gripped the doorframe as tight as I could. Looking back, I am really glad I went through with it. The best night of my short life happened over there.

But here I go again, climbing up the high dive with every intention of jumping off when I get to the top. I am just waiting for the day I panick and the lifeguards in my life won't let me turn back. Will I be happy? Will I make friends? Am I really Ph.D. material?

I am sending my acceptance in tomorrow, and I am sick with fear that this will turn out to be the wrong choice. I am leaving my home, my friends, the Boy, and I am not sure why right at this moment.

I am going through with all the steps now, but when it comes down to the last possible moment, I am going to need a hell of a push to get me to realize that splashing into the water really won't hurt so bad after all.