Plip, plip, plip...

The sound of the raindrops plopping down on the metal roof keeps me up. It is 4:32 a.m. and I know that if I don’t fall asleep in the next 15 minutes then there is no hope. Not that it really matters anyways. Here in the woods, time stands still.

There is no one new around or anything new to speak about. The most exciting thing to happen this week was the tree that fell down in the middle of the road. The neighbors stopped on one side, we stopped on the other, and then discussed the abnormality of it all.

Exciting, right?

Wrong.

My name is Mary Traft and I have lived in a small town in Vermont —about two hours from Burlington—my entire life. My friends are here, my family is here, my everything is here, or at least that is what I had been told.

Here’s the thing— no one in this town ever goes anywhere. We live here all of our lives, talk about how terrible the rest of the world is, and about how “lucky” we all are that we do not have to endure them.

We talk about the past as if we know our best days are behind us. We talk about the future with a disheartening certainty, because we know nothing is ever going to change. And maybe it’s better this way.

The predictability of it all allows us to live in a routine that we know we will be eternally comfortable in. But I don’t want to be comfortable. I want to be free, escape the woods, see what is beyond the trees, and find a place filled with more life than I have ever seen.

At 4:46 a.m., I decide to make that change.

I gave up on sleep and decided to do something with my life. After all, I am 23-years-old and have never even ventured beyond New England. I went to a community college, approximately 12 minutes from my house, and have had the same “friends” (I use that term lightly) since I was five-years old.

My friends have never wanted anything different, or even felt the urge to find something different. My closest friend, Beth, is currently working as a secretary at our childhood dental office, counting down the days until she marries her high school sweetheart. She was the one I always thought was destined for something greater. But the story isn’t much different for Becky or Grace or Andrea, who are all waiting around for the right man to come along and sweep them of their feet.

There was a time that I thought about my life being like this and I thought I would be happy if it was, but now it feels like I am suffocating just thinking about it.

By 4:58 a.m., I have made my way downstairs to use the only computer we have in our house to figure out what I should do with myself.

But I don’t even know where to begin. So, I start searching:

"What should girls with minimal education do with their life?"

"Where should I move if I have never been there before?"

"Free colleges around the world..."

"Best places in Europe..."

"How to live alone for the first time?"

And the list went on, normally with results and answers like:

"Be a mother... get married... there are no free colleges...," and the worst one, "Stay where you are..."

But none of these options are what I want. So, I sit in the dark living room, curled up in the roll-away chair by the desk and think about what I can do with the money I have saved up.

I have been working at the same bakery since I was 14 years-old, and like I mentioned before, I have never really done anything with my life. I’ve been there so long that I am now the highest ranking manager and therefore get paid the highest salary.

I have more money than I ever thought I would get living in this town, but living with my family I never felt the need to use it. The money has sat collecting, and my 5-year-old passport has remained untouched as well.

Until today.

That's when I started to dream about London. I've always been fascinated with the city, maybe it was what I read about it that made it magical. But I convince myself that I'm not ready to handle a city like that—yet. So I start looking for towns outside of London, suburbs that will make me feel like I have a home in all the madness.

I started to search but then realized that I should not move to a new place, just to end up in the same small town, with the same little group of people to live a boring life with.

Instead, I will go to Europe, travel around some, discover more places, and find new things that I like. Uncover things that fascinate me. Study the history, the people, the food, and the culture. I will leave my safety bubble, if only to see if there is anything better out there. I know that I need to do this soon or I will not do it at all.

I find the cheapest flight that is set to leave three days from now. The quality of the flight makes no difference to me, it could be a disgusting plane and my seat-mate could be a goat but it would still be the best flight I have ever been on.

At 6:03 a.m., I started to hear shuffling around the house. My parents are early risers as they believe “the best part of the day happens before most are even up to see it.” So, I snatched my itinerary and retreated back to my room. I read the pages over and over, and try to comprehend the realness of this situation.

I am leaving this town!

I am leaving my neighbors. I am leaving this house, this neighborhood, and this state. I am leaving where I have lived and remained for the 23-years. I can barely contain my excitement! I want to scream from joy. Thank goodness I don’t have to go into work today, I think I would quit now if I had to.

But my immense joy was slowly overridden with a twinge of guilt. How will I tell my parents that I am leaving? How will I tell them that this life, their life, is not enough for me? That it doesn’t bring me the contentment the feel so effortlessly? How do I tell them that I don’t know when, or if, I am coming home? I heard my mom puttering in the kitchen and couldn't help myself from going out to talk to her.

So, I ran out and told them all about my plans. I didn't ask them. Strangely, they seemed okay with it. They asked me logistical questions and as we were speaking I realized I couldn't wait any longer—I had to do something now.

So at 7:07 a.m. I wandered back into my room and, for the last time, crawled into my bed.

My flight was scheduled to depart from Boston in four days. I had only been to Massachusetts one other time in my life, when I was 17-years-old and visiting schools with my now ex-boyfriend, Jason.

He ended up at Boston University, I stayed home, and—well—you know how it goes. Jason once said that his “door is always open,” and I think today will be the day I walk through that door.

At 7:37 a.m. I walked out of my house, got in my car, and drove away.

And for the first time, I was anxious to see where life was finally taking me.