One year ago,

I got on a one-way flight, packed up my life and decided to let my gut guide me.

I wanted to leave my old self behind, the one that was too scared to make decisions, the one that was stuck on a loop of grieving his old life and trying to live in a new one. I realised I couldn’t be fully in the moment when presenting myself. Had too much baggage attached to me. I needed to fly away to somewhere unknown, where I would be able to completely start fresh in cultures that weren’t my own. It was as close as I ever could come to wiping the slate clean.

When you leave your surroundings, even for a short while. You'd be surprised who your friends truly are. Who checks in on you as you're miles away, adventuring through a complete unknown. You see yourself in a very different light right away. You start to forgive yourself a lot more because you’re able to see everything you're capable of all on your own. Asking strangers for help, navigating without internet, communicating without a common language, healing in between the chaos and the quiet moments.

Two people sitting in a vehicle, one man with glasses and a woman with brown hair, both facing forward, visible from the shoulder up.

A young man with blonde hair, glasses, and a green shirt laughing on a beach, sitting next to a camel with a person in the background, cloudy sky, and ocean waves.

This 5 month journey has taught me more about life than any book or film ever could. I needed to put myself in those situations and watch them unfold, needed to see how I react when my senses are on overload. Will I pack up my bag and leave, or grow thicker skin to explore beneath the surface?

The stories that stay with you are not those on your camera roll. It’s with the locals you just met, the random beach walk at 2am, strangers you shared your deepest secrets or desires with. Those are the hearts you will hold onto forever. But this adventure couldn’t last forever. I knew I would eventually have to come back. I never really thought about what that would look like for me; that was the least of my concerns. All I knew in this moment was that I needed to get out of the life that I was building. The longer I looked at myself in the mirror, the less I recognised myself. Watching videos of myself performing while I was crying inside. All I ever wanted was to connect, to let people know that they were not alone in feeling like strangers in their own skin. I wanted to paint this journey in real time, to have people watch me shed my skin one flight at a time.

A young man with blond hair and glasses sitting on the floor with two tiger cubs, one close to the camera and the other near his feet, in a room with floral decorations and a TV in the background.

A person with blonde hair, glasses, and a sheer black shirt sitting on a rolled-up rug on a terrace with red patterned walls. Behind them is a historic brick building and a sign that says 'ATH BARI'.

A person standing barefoot on a sandy beach with arms outstretched under a cloudy sky with the sun barely visible through the clouds.

A person with blonde hair wearing glasses, a blue shirt, and a backpack, standing outdoors and looking at a hilly, forested landscape under a cloudy sky.

A man dressed in traditional Indian attire with arms outstretched standing under an ornate archway at night.

Two people, a woman with dark curly hair and a man with blonde hair and glasses, embracing in a dark outdoor setting at night.

Why is that so important to me?

Ever since losing someone I never got a chance to love to suicide, after my own failed attempts. I thought that the light in my life was gone. I tried everything to make myself feel numb at the time. Just to realise the only way to live my life is to feel everything all the time. As exhausting as that can be, I will not let my life slip away. I never had a beacon of hope in my life; everything was always filtered through a story that would sell, titles that would make you click; none of it ever felt like it was coming from a human being. That is why I find it so important to share my unfiltered heart. There is enough fiction in the world as it is; I have no interest in adding fuel to that fire.

That is why I started to share my story. At first, only subtly on the pages with my name on them. Eventually broadened the horizons onto stages. Breaking into the poetry scene in London. Visibility is important. Seeing people’s pain in real time, not just the aftermath of it. But I realised that might have been too much. Making myself vulnerable in places that didn’t appreciate it or care for it. I needed to take a step back; I needed to heal these wounds before I ever spoke about them because I was rupturing my own scars for the sake of connecting with a stranger within a 5-minute open mic slot. What was I thinking?

Two men sitting by the water on a rocky shore, facing away from the camera, with a cloudy sky overhead and boats on the beach in the distance.

A silhouette of a person sitting on a large rock by the ocean with the sun shining through clouds in the sky.

A young man with glasses, wearing a purple shirt, is holding a book and speaking into a microphone indoors at night. The scene can be seen through a glass door, with a woman in an orange top partly visible in the foreground.

A young man with light hair, glasses, and a green shirt holding a microphone, speaking on stage with colored lights overhead.

A young person with short, blue hair holding a microphone and a booklet, standing in front of a stage with colorful lights and a dark background.

I had a lot to unpack on this journey. I needed to understand why I felt the need to overshare. Why I needed my feelings to be seen or heard. I am one of the biggest introverts you will meet. I can stay at home for months at a time with very little human interaction. I wanted to prove to myself that I could change this pattern. I needed to see if this is something I enjoyed or if I was clinically depressed. Throwing myself in these situations showed me that I enjoy wreaking havoc on my own accord. Live my life to the fullest for a few days, romancing a stranger I met in the opposite hostel bed, drawing our hearts on the sand, having sexual getaways in the middle of nowhere, having them show me their version of the city. Just to get on a 10 hour bus and go to a new destination 2 or 3 days later and do the same thing again. End up at a random party, crash a wedding, hitchhike that turns into daily adventures with a random stranger. You learn what you truly enjoy when you are forced to be by yourself, you see yourself in ways you never would if you had never left.

Person with blue hair lying on the floor surrounded by scattered papers, holding a booklet.

A young man with glasses and blue hair taking a selfie at an ancient temple or monument with a pagoda-like tower in the background, surrounded by greenery and a cloudy sky.

Watching myself trying to fit back into the same life upon my return was the bigger culture clash than anything I ever found in India.

I was ready to leave everything behind... but was I ready to meet the new me?

Person standing on a stone path overlooking a town in a valley with houses, surrounded by mountains and trees.

Person walking through a dense forest with tall trees, mountain in the background, and sunlight filtering through the foliage.

Person wearing red jacket with arms outstretched standing on rocky terrain in front of snow-covered mountain peaks under a clear blue sky.

A person with red hair wearing red shorts standing under a small waterfall in a rocky canyon.

A person with red hair swimming in a mountain lake with snowy peaks and rocky terrain in the background.

A person with glasses reading a book by the water at sunset with a bridge and trees in the background.

A person with red hair and glasses making a peace sign while riding a camel in a desert area with sparse vegetation and wind turbines in the background.

I'm not who I was before I got on that flight, but I would never have changed that outcome. I needed to open my eyes to realise that my life wasn't working as it was. This book documents it all in real time. From one bus, train, or plane to another. 10-hour bus journeys, meeting people who make an impact just within a few days. Taking myself through jungles, rain forests, icy terrains, mountains, deserts and the freaking Himalayas. The only thing I'd change is to embark on this journey sooner. To show myself that this life truly is worth living and that we tend to get lost in the echo chamber of our daily struggles.

Three friends standing together outdoors with the Taj Mahal in the background, smiling and posing for the photo.

A man with red hair, glasses, and light skin sitting at a restaurant table, with a woman with dark hair and henna on her hand next to him. The man is wearing a black racing jacket with red and white accents. The table has a green cover, and there are hanging lamps and a beige ceiling with circular lights in the background.

A man with red hair and glasses is leaning out of a red structure, possibly a train, at a busy outdoor station or platform with several people walking in the background under partly cloudy skies.

A person with red hair and glasses smiling while holding four books, standing in front of a large wall art of a sunset over the ocean. Books include titles like "Swimming" and "Boy, Why So Confusing." Bookshelf with various books is visible in the background.

The goal was to journal, live and breathe the new experiences and to be totally present. I did not expect it to turn into a 540-page book full of my emotions, feelings and experiences. A collage of memories to finish off my 20s.