Growing up, I never imagined that home could mean so much more than simply four walls and a roof above my head. More than a sanctuary after a long day of work, it's searching for an escape from what we call “reality.” And more than a warm bed that seems nearly impossible to get out of each morning.

Moving out of my apartment for winter break left me with an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Was this because I was upset to be leaving my friends behind at school, or simply the aftermath of a stressful week filled with final exams and crammed papers? Actually, it was neither. I knew what my next semester had in store for me, and I had been prepared for it for quite a while now.

It wasn’t until I took my final steps on campus that I realized there was no turning back. I no longer had a room at school to call home. I no longer had classes holding responsibility over my head. It was accepting that life at college was going to continue with or without me. This wasn’t easy to digest.

When the opportunity presented itself, like I knew it would, to say goodbye to my parents, I realized that I couldn’t delay it any longer. I was upset. I was genuinely sad to leave them, as any child would be. But it wasn’t leaving home that had me up all night drowning in thoughts and last-second doubts. It was leaving the people and memories that I was going to miss. This became my first conscious understanding that the little house sitting up on the hill that I call home held no sentimental value to me without those people and experiences.

I said my last goodbyes as I successfully made it through security at the airport. Passport in one hand, boarding pass in the other, I felt free. I felt every chip on my shoulder and every worry in my life instantly vanish.

It was safe to say that I was truly experiencing the feeling of leaving my own comfort zone. I was saying goodbye to everything that I had ever known for 72 days to experience things that I knew nothing about. I was introduced to 29 strangers, whose names I could barely remember, and at our first group dinner, yep, I was that kid eating alone with the teachers because all of the tables were full.

In Hawaii, it was experiencing the transition of 29 strangers becoming 29 amazing friends. This is inevitable when you spend every waking second together on the trip (I’m not kidding …). But still, it was just week one. This was the time when we learned to get to know each other -- where everyone was from, what hobbies everyone loved, who enjoys going out, etc.

This was a time when cliques had yet to be formed, arguments had yet to rise, and schoolwork? Well, I think I speak for everyone when I say that it was never a priority on our minds. Regardless, not only did Hawaii do us a favor when it came to the terrible jet lag, a cost of traveling the world, but it provided me with insight into what the next nine weeks had in store for me.

I was fortunate enough to travel the Pacific for 10 weeks to New Zealand, Australia, and Fiji. The experiences that presented themselves during my trip changed my whole perspective on the world. During my semester I swam with wild dolphins. I jumped off a bridge because my friends did too.

I polar-plunged into a glacier lake and hiked several mountains and volcanoes with gorgeous backdrops.

I sang karaoke with locals, scuffled through canyons, swam in waterfalls, avoided the group plague, took selfies with the Opera House, and dove with turtles on the Great Barrier Reef.

I camped in the Outback, petted a kangaroo, and spent a day living in a Fijian Village.

And yet I learned that it wasn’t the places I traveled or the amazing adventures that made this trip truly one to remember. It was the people I got to experience them with.

After returning back to the States, I was finally able to comprehend this new meaning of home. Home to me was no longer a house I grew up in or a pillow I rest my head on when I go to sleep. And it no longer implied blood relatives.

The concept formed a new foundation in my mind. It no longer was a place, but it became a feeling. Home became the 29 people who went from strangers to lifelong friends. It was being surrounded by people who can drive you absolutely crazy one moment but are pushing you out of your comfort zone the next.

Home became following your heart and trusting wherever your feet may land.

For 10 weeks I felt invincible. I witnessed my perspective on the world humanity widen, and I began longing for more. I am a victim of the pesky travel bug. And I will continue to travel the world to find my home. Because home is where your passport is.

“Traveling -- it gives you home in a thousand strange places, then leaves you a stranger in your own land." -- Ibn Battuta