does the truth truly refresh a broken mind?

I want to tell you what I see when I look out my window. I want to paint this picture with my words of the beauty of this place...this film set staged for the perfect Spanish film.  Young men playing futbol, tall and old paint-chipped buildings, the warm sun that seems to burn brighter and warmer here, a kind of fresh breeze that just by breathing in seems  to remind you that you aren't home. But what I'm describing, what I see, sounds beautiful, yes. But something that I've really taken note of is that seeing something and feeling go hand in hand, you cannot have one without the other. And isn't that odd?  Because if it was that simple, to just see something beautiful, take it in and feel good and put it on your list of the most beautiful things you've experienced then I tell you with confidence, that you've gained nothing. Because it's nothing like that, its nothing as easy as that. At first I didn't know why that was, I thought maybe it was just me, because I overthink everything, but then now I think I can say i've sort of caught on to why it is that this 'phenomenon' occurs.  And as I complete my first month abroad today with 11 more months to go, I think of  two very important people in my life, JP and Liz. I've been thinking about you both a lot. And I wonder about what you were feeling and thinking and I wonder if you  feel or have felt any of what I am feeling right now--experienced this phenomenon.  It's a feeling you really can't explain, and honestly, I wonder if you both never told me about it because you couldn't explain it either. Me and Nate had this conversation...frustrated and exhausted walking through some of the most beautiful streets I have ever walked through, wondering why you guys never told us it would be so much tougher than anyone would think.  That you couldn't see something beautiful or take a gorgeous sight in without questioning things you were told or learned, thinking and rethinking everything. And now that I think about it, I realize you have told me about this. I realize what you mean when you told me that I was going to change. Because its only been one month, and I don't think I am the same person I was a month ago.

Whether this happens to everyone who goes abroad or not, I want to continue writing about what I mean when I say you can't view an image or take in its beauty and walk away feeling like your skipping on clouds, put in your pocket and move on with your life.  This is nothing like any family vacation I've ever been on, this is no vacation at all.  This is complete awareness of everything and everyone around you, this is learning something new everyday, this is--I have never been this lonely, I have never seen something so beautiful, I've never ever felt so grateful, I don't understand what you just asked me but I am going to just nod my head or say no thank you, I have no idea where I am currently, how I will get back to my hostel/dorm or where I will be one month tomorrow, the most rewarding experience, this is the thought that I know there are a million hard-working people in the world that deserve this so much more than I do.  So as you can see, this is just a handful of the thoughts that go on in my busy head every day, aside from constantly thinking of my parents, my sisters, my friends, my Ale, my little chihuahua--always always. Thinking exhausts, I feel very tired--but you have to keep pushing yourself because this is once in a lifetime, this is get out of your room because you have to go and see something new, you have to meet someone new, you have to be that person that has the opportunity so you better make it worth it. Its a constant push and it's the thought that I know I have so much support from so many people at home and I have to make them proud. And I am not homesick, nor do I wish to be home, but I think I have gotten to know so much more of who I am, what I want to change about myself, and how much I need to grow up. And knowing yourself, learning more about what exists out there is good, its beautiful, its fun, exciting, its rewarding, but its hard, its work, its lonely, its you're never at ease, never relaxed, its holy shit I get how this  makes sense now or this doesn't make any sense at all.

I sat in el Parque del Retiro en Madrid one of the most amazing places i've been, it might've just about blew me away with its beauty like a leaf in the wind that lands on a lake irritating its waters, causing small ripples, ripples metaphorical for the changes i'm feeling. Ripples metaphorical for this thought that at times brews in my mind, this "why am I doing this again? why did i leave the comfort of my home? why did i leave love?" everything was so nice, my life was pretty perfect and I just threw myself into a new place, with new people, forced to recreate my life.  I looked over at my best friend Nathan and said 'holy _ we are home nate, we are in Madrid and we've come along way from those dorms 2 years ago'. And we sat in silence, at sunset, thinking about home, thinking about our little cities back in the states, which still exist, but here and to these people don't? Such small little cities that billions of people do not know exist, but to us they are essentially  our everything, our world and all we know.  And when I shared with him my thought, my question of 'what am i doing?' I was comforted to hear that he thought and felt the same thing at times. And he told me, this is who we are, we get bored, we want change, challenge, fear, we want to learn, we crave excitement, a life of a dreamer. And thats who and what we are, two little Mexican kids, dreamers, crazy people, set out on our adventure to see the world, to paint a picture with our words, capture what we see, take it back home, share it, create some form of art of it, to return and try and convince you that this is what you need to do,that  this is what you need to see and experience.  

Before this month, I had no balls, I didn't know what balls were. And now, I think I have a pair growing.

I love my towel, my old blue and bleach stained towel from home. When I packed it I was in a rush, I just needed a towel and it didnt matter which one. And now, i've never been more grateful for my old blue towel and there is no other towel I would've brought now. It's odd how someone can have a relationship with an inaminate object. My towel has been through so some shit, its been my pillow when my head has ached, my blanket when I am too cold, something to hug when I just need to just hug something. It really is a form of love. Odd yes, but have you met me?

I'm so grateful for this. I saw crazies run with bulls, I danced on Abbey Road, walked through broken glass of the riots in London, experienced Amsterdam, partied with the Spanish, met people from all around the world, stood on Anne Frank's doorstep, laid on the beaches of Brighton. Last night, I dreamt in Spanish. Never thought that one would happen.