With myself, it was different again. In many ways I was the most unlikely of souls to undertake such a journey and I was plagued by doubt. They would seep out of the globe at night and surround me, encase me and shake me until I flew about like snow.
What was I doing? I asked myself this more times than I cared to remember. This was crazy. Who took a year off to go on a festival bender? Well, I knew the answer. The type of person who holidayed in remote, sweaty regions with poor toilet facilities; who enjoyed eating mysterious and membraney-type food smacking their lips while they did so; the type of person who liked to poke dangerous animals with short sticks just for the fun of reaction - that's who.
And that wasn’t me.
I didn't like to be titillated.
Sometimes my life felt like a litany of cool and sexy things I'd never tried. Hey Izz, want to go rock climbing? - don't like heights. Hey Izz, what about surfing? - can't tread water. Hey Izz, how about sky diving? - nope. Tandem sky diving? - and get strapped to the front of another dude? Pfffft.
And so it went.
And let us not forget, also, that I was an apple not far fallen, a trusting and loving consumer of mass-production, of convenience, with no real skills, who'd long since known that when the apocalypse came, when solar flares struck and humanity went tumbling back into the next Dark Ages, I would be among the first to die, from starvation, a dented tin of peaches in one hand, and the rock in which I tried to open it the other.
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