The moment the taxi drove away, my reality hit me like a tonne of bricks.
I’d always dreamed of doing the proper backpacking adventure around Europe (original I know!) but my partner - who I’d been with for six years by this point - couldn’t get any more time off.
“You should still just go for it,” he encouraged.
So I bit the bullet and booked my dream holiday. But I was completely delulu thinking I’d find that much time on my own easy.
Horoscopes at the airport. Post continues below.
I’m one of those girls who goes to the bathroom with a friend on a night out. I’ll play a podcast if I’m home alone so there are other voices around. And the thought of going to the movies solo makes me want to cry for reasons I can’t quite explain.
I also have that really fun combination of constantly wanting to be around people, but also being very self-conscious and automatically assuming everyone will hate me.
How the hell was I going to survive three months solo!?
While I’m not proud to admit it, I spent that first night silently sobbing into my lumpy hostel pillow while I was in LITERAL PARIS AND COULD’VE BEEN SILENTLY SOBBING AT THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE.