There has to be a DAY 1

I was alone, wet, freezing, out of water, and watching lightning tear through the sky.

My shorts were soaked because, of course, I had forgotten my swim wear. Had no tent, no water left in my bottle. It was already dark and the only way back was through a forest on a badly marked trail.

I kept remembering something I had heard as a kid. When there is lightning, avoid being outside. Also avoid trees. Not even sure if that's true.

Guess where I was.

Started running uphill using my phone's torch for a few seconds at a time, then switched it off to save battery. No map, just trying to recognise the same rocks and turns I had passed on the way down.

For the first time that evening, I was properly thinking about death.

Maybe I am overhyping the whole thing. But in that moment, for me, it was a true fucking adventure. And I absolutely loved every second of it.

The trip started from my home in Eindhoven with a bus ride that lasted nearly 30 hours.

It was not glamorous. It was long, tiring and probably an unnecessarily difficult way to reach Spain. Which is exactly the kind of travel I somehow keep choosing.

That's how I met random strangers whose names I didn't even ask, and we still spoke for hours, unable to sleep.

I can afford the flights and nice hotels. I too like a comfortable bed. But carrying a stupidly heavy bag full of camera equipment across stations and up mountains gives me a feeling that a clean, comfy hotel room just doesn't.

Maybe the struggle makes the arrival feel earned. Maybe I just enjoy making life difficult for myself. Idk man, it's not easy but that's what I love about it.

My first night in Barcelona, I went to a rave with random people I had met at the hostel.

It was not a club. It was a silent disco in front of the Sagrada Família. To tourists walking past, we probably looked like a bunch of idiots dancing to absolutely nothing.

Honestly, that made it even better.

The couple organising it spoke about their journey and how they had stumbled into creating something this fun. They got extra headsets and pulled people from the crowd into it. People who had arrived to look at a monument suddenly ended up dancing with complete strangers.

For a while everyone forgot how adults are “supposed” to behave.

We danced like kids in a playground, so full of life.

I am terrified of deep water. I cannot even swim properly. I have had multiple near-drowning experiences because the second my feet stop touching the bottom of a pool, I panic.

That same me signed up for a four-day scuba diving course.

I did not suddenly become fearless when I put the equipment on. I still had to control my breathing and stop my mind from running through everything that could go wrong. Thanks to one of the best instructors and some fun people learning alongside me, I really was able to get control of my breathing.

And I kept going back into the water.

Being scared and doing something are not opposites. They can happen simultaneously.

There were corals and more fish than I could process. Tiny ones, massive ones, a world so colourful and all natural? I wish I had better words for what it looked like, but I don't.

Fun fact: I couldn't really see far away without my glasses. But whatever I saw got me hooked enough to want to invest more time and resources into this.

At just 15 metres below sea level, there's a whole new world. Just RAW nature, doing what it does best, existing.

You can feel every breath. You notice every muscle you move. You are not standing or falling. You are just floating, feeling weightless.

For someone whose body normally panics when his feet cannot find the bottom, that feeling was insane.

The cliffs overlooked this massive stretch of sea. It felt like it all belonged to me because I was the only one there to look at it, yet it made me realise how insignificant I am. How insignificant my problems and worries are.

The sky kept changing colours from orange to wine-like red. The leaves were so green they looked like someone had pushed the saturation slider all the way up.

I reached a valley-like opening with a small beach between the rocks. There were four people and a dog there and after a while, even they left.

Then it was just me and the ecosystem around me.

I smiled. I screamed. I cried. I missed my mom. I smiled again.

I tried to shoot videos and messed up the settings so badly that they came out completely black. Perfect visual documentation of a life-changing moment.

I climbed around the rocks with my bare hands and feet. Twisted my ankles multiple times. Got cuts on my feet. Slipped on soft moss. Surprised how I still haven't broken a bone yet.

At one point my feet could not feel the bottom. I still panicked. I swam a little anyway, in whatever stupid way I know how to.

Then I did a small dive from merely a metre or two. Probably insignificant to someone who can swim. For me, all alone, it felt scary.

I jumped anyway.

Then I wanted to do a backflip. I had done a few before. But this time I kept walking to the edge and freezing.

What if I slipped? What if I hit my head? What if I blacked out in the water?

My body refused to obey me. Maybe because I had just seen what my life could be like. I felt alive, and I wanted to live more moments like that while, ofc, trying to stay alive.

So I couldn't do it.

Maybe fear was protecting me. Maybe it was the right decision. I don't know.

No dry clothes. No water. No tent. No proper light. A low phone battery. A route back through trees. Nobody around.

Somehow I found the trail. Somehow I retraced the steps back up. Somehow I reached the top and walked out into the street lights.

The lightning was still there, but I was suddenly less afraid. Strange feeling. Nothing about the storm had changed. The only difference was that there was now civilisation around me again.

On the trail I had been thinking about dying. Back in the city I could finally tell myself that I had just experienced one of the best days of my life.

Really fucking happy.

I am scared of heights. Deep water. Failure. Embarrassment. Looking weak. Talking to strangers. Meeting old friends and wondering if they would think I'm uncool, weird or simply boring. Not living up to what people expect from me.

I am scared of so much shit.

For a while I watched people around me succeed and asked why they had figured out their lives before I had. I compared myself to them, then felt bad because of what I had chosen to look at. Very productive, right?

Eventually I stopped treating their lives as evidence that I was failing. Their lives could inspire mine without mine having to look like theirs.

I had spent too much time trying to become the version of me that made sense to everyone else. Somewhere in that process, I lost the child in me who did stupid things, stayed curious and did not care so much about looking cool.

I wanted that person back. There you go. That was my why.

After my mom passed, there were moments when I confused rebellion with control.

I smoked my first cigarette even though my mom and brother had spent my whole childhood telling me that smoking was the one thing I should never do.

At the time it felt like I was taking control of my life. Looking back, it sounds fucking ridiculous. But it was real.

I don't claim I am a changed man. I am just trying to change what I use my freedom for.

I'm a nobody to judge anyone. Good and bad, right and wrong, are shaped by our surroundings, society and culture. I'm trying to observe more and jump to conclusions less. Easier said than done, yes. But at least I try.

I don't know exactly what career I want. I don't know whether fear ever properly leaves. I don't know how many ideas in my head will ever see daylight.

I don't know what tomorrow looks like. Maybe growing up is not finally figuring everything out. Maybe it is becoming okay enough with uncertainty to move anyway.

I want to stay curious. Maybe someone teaches me something. Maybe I teach them something. Maybe we just have a nice evening and never see each other again.

That is enough too.