I am not a child of the world. My eyes are not filled with stardust, my feet are not restless, I don't seek to wander the edge of the earth. While I am not one of the intrepid international students or TCK's that make up much of LC's population, I have dealt with enough change in my life that it makes me wary of more. Yet I continue to topple into life choices that leave me tumbling between the earth and the sky, trying to find my balance.

My life changed suddenly when I was in high school. Where I previously had a put-together polished family, I now had a mother doing her best to raise me alone and a sister living across the country.

When I applied for colleges, I did something out of a kind of dumb bravado (and maybe a little bit of courage). I applied solely to out-of-state schools -no backups- so that I would force myself onto a life path all my own. The transition to school was not without its obstacles.

While I was away, my childhood home was sold, and my belongings packed up and shipped from house to house. As my mother was forced to relocate time and time again, she echoed my feeling of barely keeping our heads above the waves in the waters of so much change.

Now I am facing another plunge. When this article is published, I will be in the air, hurtling toward a new life in France. My study abroad is eight months long, and everyone assures me it will fly by before I know it. But as I stare at that number now, it seems to stretch up far beyond my sight line.

I have no images in my head of what to expect, no ideas to reassure me aside from my imaginings. I'm struggling to gain purchase on anything tactile, to hold my favorite blue coat in my hands and see myself wearing it on cobblestone streets. I hope these visions will meld gently into reality, instead of crashing down and overwhelming me in a cacophony of language and color and culture.

I know that the life I am entering into is one of relative luxury. Living in a home with a welcoming host family in Western Europe affords me an easier transition than is granted to my other study abroad comrades, who are scattered across the continents, some in countries whose languages their tongues have never felt.

I am grateful for the support of my family and my school in allowing me this opportunity. I am looking forward to the experience ahead of me, I really am. It's just that standing on the edge of the precipice, staring at the void, I'm scared more than I can say. But I'm determined not to let my fear of falling keep me from getting off the ground.

The beauty of college, and studying abroad, is that they give you increasingly wider spheres in which to find yourself and your sense of the world. It allows you to explore, first in the classroom, then from the best teacher the world has to offer: experience. As I face down the biggest leap I have made yet, I'm scared, scared, scared... but it's all twisted up inside me with a kind of dizzying excitement, too.

I'm made up of paradoxes. Doubt and determination, fear and excitement, a desire for adventure and a desire for stability. Like I said, I'm not a child of the world, born with wanderlust in my veins. I still feel very young, and very vulnerable. The world is such an infinitely large place, and the steps I take in it are so very small. But I'm making my way the best I can, toeing my boundaries as best I can even as my heart thuds against my ribcage.

As all the college students on your newsfeed embark on their journeys, wish them well. While their eyes are glimmering with genuine excitement (and a select few are probably blasé about traveling, having trodden the map weary already) I know there is a small current of fear running deep within us all. While it keeps us from flying too close to the sun, it also challenges us. It reminds us to find our own limits, face them down, and push beyond.