Paris Again

The Paris trip looms. Will I be able to do it? I can’t imagine actually standing next to the Eiffel Tower, and being able to touch it. I can’t imagine actually being there, and seeing all these things I’ve only ever seen in pictures before. I just can’t picture myself there. But the tickets are real, the hotel is booked. The suitcase is lying open in my bedroom, waiting to be filled. I feel nervous, because it’s a new experience for me. I want so bad to travel, but I’ve not been able to go too far due to my panics. How ridiculous that I’m scared of panic. ‘There is nothing to fear but fear itself’ and all that. I’m scared of being scared. In what twisted world does that make sense?

I’m waking up early, being extra forgetful and clumsy, and my eyes are pretty bloodshot. In short, I am a bit of a wreck. But if I can just hold on until Wednesday, if my boyfriend can prop me up long enough so that I actually enter Paris, then I will be ok. I’ll eat French bread and cakes and take photos and buy tacky souvenirs. I’ll fudge my way through the French language and watch French TV. Luckily the hotel staff speak a little English, and they seem pretty friendly. Instead of sitting here at my desk working, I’m on the hotel website obsessively trying to comfort myself with the joys of potential room service, and our room which has a view of Notre Dame.