Dear everyone (if you think this is about you, you're probably right),

I've been dreading this letter for a long time. When I sit down to write, I'm at a loss for words. I know it must seem like I'm leaving forever. I'm not. Just four months. But I hold on to life so tightly that when it changes, it sends me spiraling.

Change is good, they say. But this is about the biggest change I've ever prepared to endure.

This friday, I leave the United States for my new semester home.

For starters, I hope you'll miss me. Not in the conceited way. In the "wow, this reminds me of Mollie, I can't wait to see her again," way. Though, I figure life won't be much different for you when I'm gone for those months. You'll acclimate to a Mollie-less life. It might be weird. But there's part of me-- the part that always feels so extra-- that believes you might not notice. I hate to sound so "woe is me," but I've got to be honest. I'm scared. I hope you'll still be my friend when I'm back. Four months is a long time to be apart. It'll give you space to think, space to change.

Don't push me to the back of your mind. That's my worst nightmare. Don't forget our inside jokes, our smiles we always give from across campus, our little moments we share on a daily basis. Don't forget to send me texts. I know I'll be sending them to you. I'll want to FaceTime you occasionally, just to hear your voice. Just don't forget. Forgetting is giving up. Please don't give up.

To my family: Don't get too comfortable. I know having me around is a lot of work. I know sometimes I'm needy, I'm pushy. But just know that I'll be back to haunt you sooner than you expected. Take comfort in knowing that this time abroad is time (money) well spent. I'll grow up, become more independent, and a slew of other things I can't fathom at this moment. I'll still be your little girl. That little girl just happens to have a big opportunity in front of her at the moment. And she'll just happen to be really far away, out of your immediate control. Scary? Yes. Necessary? Yes. But you can bet you'll be receiving texts, pictures, and posts every day.

Thank you for letting me embark on this journey. I love you.

Look at me, putting all the pressure on you guys without even focusing on my part in all of this.

You might think that I'll forget you. You might think Europe will steal my heart, my mind, and my soul. And while that last part might be right, there's more than enough room for you, too. Europe is pretty awesome, and pretty, and awesome.

But so are you. And I can't wait to see you again, even though I haven't left yet.

I will be missing you every day. On my drive to the airport, my heart will ache. When I takeoff, a little piece of my soul will die. When I wake up that first morning over 4,000 miles across the ocean, I'll cry. I know this is true. When I see something that reminds me of you, I'll tell you. Probably every day. I'm already not sorry.

But I can't promise I'll be the same person when I return-- internally, at least. Call me dramatic, but I'm hoping for a change. A change of heart. A change of mind. Something big. I'm not sure what yet. Change is good, they say. All I know is that I'm anticipating being a different person-- at least I hope I will. Otherwise, it was a trip (money) wasted.

Understand, though, that while I'm missing you, my life still continues. I'll get acclimated to a you-less life. It might be weird. But there's a part of me-- the part that has faith in friendship-- that knows everything will turn out alright.

What I can promise, however, is that I'll still be Mollie. I'll be your friend-- your best friend. I'll remember our inside jokes, our smiles from across campus, our little moments we shared on a daily basis. I'll be a Mollie with stories, laughs, hearty memories, and new creases in her forehead from stress and from smiling.

Just know that this experience is necessary for me. I've always told myself that I will do this-- and now it's time to prove that I can. Don't get me wrong, I'm so unbelievably excited. It dictates my thoughts, my conversations, and even my dreams. I know this is a once in a life time opportunity, and I am going to cherish it every day.

But It's still scary leaving you all behind to the ambiguity of the future. I'm absolutely terrified to be left out and to have serious "fear of missing out." It's that little pessimistic voice in my head, I've got to admit, she's winning.

But I have a lot of faith in you. I have a lot of faith in us. I'm afraid, but as Erada Svetlana once said: "If it's both terrifying and amazing then you should definitely pursue it."

And I will... despite the consequences. Good and bad. Keep me on your brain. You'll be on mine every day.

With love,

Mollie