Sometime during my 18th year, I noticed a change in how happy I was with myself. Up until then, I lived my life as a carefree child. Years slipped by like lazy waves resting against a sandy beach. Vacations, weekends at the lake, and lazy afternoons in the backyard seemed to come and go as easily as a heartbeat. I remember riding my bike down the street, not worried about being hit by a car. I was never worried about impressing that girl who sat next to me in 5th period, although she was gorgeous. Never did I worry about paying a bill on time; I didn’t have any to pay. And, I never worried about where my life would lead. That would simply work itself out.

Counting down the days until I would move away from home, I quickly realized that I would be on my own. My opportunity to become a new person was approaching. One distinct memory I have leading to the day I would move away was of me asking how I might change my personality in college. What could I do to make people like me more? How could I become different than what I am? People around me told me that this could be my opportunity to rediscover myself. “Now you can form a new identity.” Nobody will know you there. You could start fresh! “Yes!” I said. I never asked “Why?”

Once I arrived on campus, I already had a close knit group of friends that I had relied on to get me through a socially unnerving two week camping trip in Michigan. The camping and scenery were fantastic. It took me a while to grow into the social experience. Being an introvert has its positive traits, but it also has its negatives. Persistent uncomfortableness is one. Thankfully this was quickly overcome, and I soon began to fully enjoy their company.

Traveling with a seemingly random group of college freshmen was in itself exciting and overwhelming. Traveling, on a later trip, with a brotherly college friend was something in itself. Nearly three years ago, my buddy Chris and I embarked on a two week adventure to discover what the country of Chile had to offer two Midwesterners full of wanderlust. When Chris called me and told me of his plans, I asked if he needed a companion. I bought my ticket the next week. Our Chilean trip has since become one of the highlights of my life’s experience. Before stepping onto that American Airlines flight to Lima, I had never been outside of the United States (Niagara Falls and Tijuana excluded).

Taking only backpacks, and subsequently losing said backpacks in route, we were on our way to whatever adventures awaited. We arrived at the Punta Arenas airport a dozen hours after we planned. We were exhausted and overwhelmed. Poured into an unmarked taxi driven by the driver’s brother, we hoped we would find our way to the hostel alive. Our bigger hope was that the hostel operator would be awake, able to speak English, and allow us our promised room. Chris seemed to take all of this in stride. I feigned confidence.

Rattled by our travels, we sank into our stiff and thin mattresses. I set my alarm to go off in 6 hours. When it did, we packed up, had the most memorable breakfast I will perhaps ever have, and flung our packs over our shoulders. “Muchas gracias por su hospitalidad!” We were on our way; two American caballeros on a mission to bewilder the locals, and enlighten ourselves.

After that opportunity, I haven’t had many experiences that genuinely satisfied my need for adventure. This is what I am searching for; nothing more, just happiness. Happiness doesn’t come in the form of a long American Airlines flight to some far-off place. Excitement doesn’t come from waking up to an earthquake on the other side of the world. Adventure doesn’t come from crossing an expansive wooden bridge crossing a thrashing river; the sign reading “ONE PERSON AT A TIME”.

Now, when I look back at my life, I realize I have been very blessed to have had these opportunities. Sometimes they fall into my lap, and sometimes I make them happen. But, either way, I’m grateful they have helped mold me. I’ve been fortunate. I’ve been sheltered. I’ve been guided. And I’ve been lucky.

Destiny has, to this point, been relatively good to me. I’ve had my low points, and I’ve had my exhilarating ones. I’m alive. I’m hopeful. I’m looking forward.

Later, someday, I may look back at this essay. When I was in college, I wrote a journal through all four years. I still have those journals. Every once in a while, I will open them up and take a quick glimpse into my past. In some ways, I am different now. My writing, I feel, is improved. My personality; well, that is the same. Apparently I didn’t listen to anyone when I was 18. Don’t be offended when I don’t listen to you now.

Everything seems to change, while nothing changes. I’m as happy as I was before I was 18, and I’m as equally as unhappy with myself after I was 18.