Reflection

I hate insomnia. It's been happening almost every night in Europe. I wish I could say it's not my fault but why deny it?

I didn't budget well enough, and I didn't save enough. I was talking to 2 girls at the hostel who took on a slightly similar undertaking. The budget was nearly double mine and they were traveling the same amount of time as Jamila and I.

We didn't take into account hidden fees, and we didn't take into account tours and food as much as we should.

My parents said not to buy souvenirs, but they must be kidding me. How can you go to Europe and not bring things back?

You get hounded by so many people who speak English that you begin to be wary of anyone who starts speaking to you, and the world is so full of creeps that it's near impossible to have a conversation with anyone who may be a local.

It's even worse since there are only 2 of us, neither of us understanding what most people say. You'd think we'd stick together and grow a stronger bond but instead we're tiring on one another.

This trip just isn't what I thought. I thought I would camp, hike, go into town and sight see for a few days. I thought we'd run into people willing to accept us, and show us a part of their culture. I thought I'd see where my dad's family was from.

I thought a lot, but the only thing I hoped was I wouldn't be disappointed, and that we'd make it through in one piece.

I don't want to complain. Most people never get the chance to do what I'm doing, and yet part of me feels like I was never going to be ready or prepared. I'd always work hard and I'd always save only to see my bank account shrivel to oblivion. In fact if it wasn't for my dad helping me out financially I'd be charging everything to my credit card and hope I could pay it off when I returned.

It's so difficult seeing my hard work at minimum wage for hours and hours on end almost seeming like a waste. I'll return with no money to my name, and a large debt I have to pay back. With each euro I spend my heart drops.

I guess it's the trauma of growing up. You realize that things you want to do demand for you to work as hard as possible, and then fight for them in the midst of getting them.

You realize that your family is always gonna be there to help you out, and thanking them never seems like enough.

You realize that mistakes may not always be able to be fixed.

Some mistakes can only be fixed by spending more money.

Traveling in a group of 2 is unwise. A group of 3 provides for a crabby person to reflect while the others are able to enjoy themselves.

No matter how many times you look at your bank account and try to budget sometimes the number will only go down.

I could go on and on, but the one thing that struck me was that in my insomniatic state I resorted to blog stalking people that I once viewed as enemies or people I'd had problems with sometime in my past. I can only say, that as awful as it may sound, I wanted their life to be unhappy. As miserable as I am about my finances. I wanted them to have issues, and I wanted them to go ranting about how this bad thing happened, or how this thing went wrong. Instead I found an insightful look into their mind.

Things suddenly made sense. It wasn't that we hated each other, it wasn't that they offended me. It was because there was a human being with feelings, emotions, problems, you name it and human being have it.

They had issues with me, and they've moved on, and found a way to be happy in life. So why can't I?

Why, when I have SO much going for me, and when I'm in Europe, a place where so many dream of visiting, am I sad? Money? So I spend more than I thought. I'll use my credit card, I'll make it through and I'll have the memories. Tiffs with Jamila? We're human. We don't need to always get along. So what is it?

Is there an underlying feeling of worthlessness?

Jamila said it herself. I don't want to disappoint anyone. This whole trip I've felt like a disappointment. My family says not to get souvenirs. I do. My Eurail problems could have been easily avoided if I had contacted the company. I failed, and in doing so have caused so many problems for both Jamila and I. I failed. I am the "stupid American" that the locals feed on. I've wanted to adapt to the culture so badly that I willingly walk into situations where they demand more money. The stupid street vendors see me coming from a mile away. Jamila is the only reason I haven't been further scammed.

Each second here I feel like I've failed someone. I've failed my parents, or Jamila, and definitely myself.

I get online hoping my parents have responded to an email, I check the news for things happening in the states, I cling to facebook hoping that someone will update because I don't want to feel alone. Jamila goes to bed and I lay beneath the sheets unable to sleep.

Ultimately it rolls down to failing and succeeding. Who decides what failing is? Is it me, or is it society? Is it both?

Those girls that I held petty grudges against haven't failed. They've lived, and my stupid perception of failure has made it so every day for the past couple months has been drawn down to failing or succeeding.

Don't view your life as such. It's a lonely and miserable road because no one else cares if you've spent more money than you planned, and no one is judging you on it but yourself. I need to relax. I need to go with the flow, and yet it seems impossible when your bank account went from thousands to a couple hundred.