The panic rising.

I always feel worst when I'm on the brink of doing something wonderful. Anticipation, nerves, fear - they all turn up like unwanted strays, scratching at the door for scraps. You open up and let one in, just for a moment, and suddenly your house is full of wild cats, yowling and making noise at all hours when you just want a bit of piece and quiet. The house being me in this case.

In round about 36 hours, I will be on a plane to South Korea. I have no idea what we're going to do in South Korea, except that we are staying in a hostel in Gangnam purely for the "Gangnam Style" jokes, two years too late to be funny (and also because it looks lovely). We are going to the De-Militarised Zone, because it looks interesting, and hopefully going to see some temples - but really, we have no idea what's going on.

That's what I'm looking forward to. The endless, non-linear nature of exploring. It's a real-life sandbox game, with all the exhilaration of having no rules to follow. At the same time, it's downright terrifying. We have no set itineraries or things to do.

My only rule is "come back with stories".

It was what my friend wrote to me. He sent me a card, bless him: he posted it to me at home, and informed me that I had to come back with stories to tell him. He said the best words came from the heart, and that was what he wanted to tell me. Funny, how people always compare our relationship to something romantic. We have a deep platonic friendship with lots of cuddling, and somehow people always assume we must be dating. Only our minds are dating.

So, I have 36 hours to my flight. I haven't packed, and right now I feel like any attempts to be witty and gracious and charming to the people I meet in hostels will inevitably end with me being laughed at. I can't wait for the new people, the new friends, the new ways to waste my nights under foreign skies, but I'm so so scared I'm going to balls it up.

What if it's not worth it?

What if I don't get any new stories?

Deep breaths, I tell myself. Breathe this world deep. Everything will be fine. The panic will pass, and soon you will be flying.

After all, you have too much to do to be worried.

A year in the life.

A year ago today, I published my first blog post on here.

A lot has happened in a year.

I've had 6,393 views on my blog from 6 continents and 60 countries. I've written 45 posts on this site, but I've also written for Autostraddle, Thought Catalog, Bloomsbury, Total Film and of course Nouse. I've become Deputy News Editor for the campus newspaper! That's pretty groovy.

I've been on more dates this year than in the rest of my life put together. I'm yet to fall in love with a person, but I've fallen in love with some places - with Japan and its gentility and culture, but also with York and its winding streets and perpetually smoke-grey sky.

I've seen a little bit more of the world than I had before: there are now 10 more countries I've set foot in compared to this time last year, and I'm working on seeing even more countries by this time next year.

I've started university, made new friends and maybe lost a few too - but that's okay, because life is all about gaining and losing things.

I've shared my bed with many bodies and even my head with one or two people. I'm slightly officially insane, and the hyperbole makes me feel better - but so does one of my friends holding me in the middle of the night.

I've learned I'm not as smart as I think, but perhaps a bit kinder than I give myself credit for.

Am I a better person than I was a year ago? Probably. I still have a lot to work on though. I'm not as confident as I was, and I'm still self-centred and insecure and liable to flail uncontrollably when tickled. I still wear my bleeding heart on my sleeve and hold onto old grudges like scars and keep raking over the same old wounds, despite knowing how much it'll hurt, but I'm trying to be better.

That's it, I suppose. I'm trying.

Here's to another year of trying.

Adventure time.

I want to see the world.

I want to put into words everything there is.

I want to gaze at the northern lights in Iceland and dance under falling leaves in a New England autumn. I want to see the clouds from the other side at the top of a mountain and come face to face with whales in the sea.

I want it all - all the cultures, all the tongues I don't understand, all the new places and experiences. I can't understand why anyone wouldn't.

I've got itchy feet just thinking about it. There is so much of the world to see that we can't ever see all of it. But it feels like we ought to at least try.

I want to feel my heart thudding against my ribs as I abseil down a building. I want to drive across deserts of sand in straight lines for hours. Catch a train across Russia. Backpack through Italian countryside. Headbang at festivals. Gaze in wonder at the same stars in the same sky in all the different countries I can.

In the book he gave me for my birthday, my then-boyfriend wrote: "To settle down is to admit you've seen all the world has. Never stop travelling." He spelled traveling wrong - because what does spelling matter, compared to the jungle islands of Micronesia or temples in Jordan?

What's the world for if we don't try and see it?

That is why I don't have the money to go out this week. It's all in my bank account, saving up for posing in front of signs in Gangnam and visting the hells of Beppu over Easter. I can't wait.

There isn't much of a point to this, except that mostly I love how my university loan is going to be spent on going new places and having new adventures. There's no education better than trying to see the world, is there?