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The unknown is a dangerous mystery I can never seem to solve; it is also too puzzling to give up on. Therefore, I am compelled to leap into the unknown, like a child leaping into a pool on a hot summer's day. I know time here is limited, so I refuse to live my life saying, “I wish”, or “I should have”—I’d rather just do it. Traveling is turning the phrase “ I should have” into “I did”. With that being said, I decided to conquer my fear and traveled to Rome. Some people get a car after graduation, others get money, I chose to take a flight that took me 13 hours away from home with people I barely knew. It was riveting. I remember flying over the ocean and watching the clouds as we passed through them. I remember waking up multiple times wondering if we had made it, and to my disappointment, discovering we still had hours to go. Outside of flying, I recall landing, the strength of the turbulence had the hairs on the back of my neck on end and tensions rising in my stomach. I dug my nails into the rests of my seat and watched the plane land in a place where I had no family, no knowledge, nor any idea of what was waiting for me once I graced that ancient soil. The people were so different, their methods of communication so foreign. No one spoke english, and I didn’t recognize their words, although I did my best to understand gestures and sounds. The air smelled clear, but at the same time felt thick and muggy. The temperature was not as humid as I had become accustomed to, and the Sun’s radiant beam seemed to conquer the outer layers of my skin, leaving a mark for the first time. Compared to my coiled hair and my melanated complexion, their shiny, majestic hair and leather-laiden skin displayed the human variety which mankind had to offer. I remember my tour guide and how tan and sleek her skin was—even under the makeup. I felt for her, because I knew she was just trying to hold on to the youth that was quickly escaping her. In addition to my observations of the people I saw, there was this particular merchant who was dressed in an African garb with a multitude of patterns. I longed to know what those symbols meant. While my friend was looking at jewelry inside his tent, the merchant asked us where we were from and how old we were. As the conversation continued, he began to comment on the length of my hair and how he liked the color of my skin. The merchant referred to me as a “black diamond”. I remember just being astonished that someone I didn’t even know thousands of miles away from my home was able to perceive the beauty in me. When for the first part of my life people made my darkness seem the scarlet letter of my existence. Rome opened my eyes. I had never seen so much culture or history in one place. Being well-preserved and respected, If I had not missed my family ,I would’ve stayed just one more night. Nevertheless, I was 17. From visiting the Sistine Chapel and sneaking photos of Michelangelo's The Creation of Adam, to traveling underground in catacombs and seeing Monk’s skulls molded into light fixtures. The idea that beauty can be made out of loss and destruction embedded itself into my mind. No ruins are truly ever ruined, it just takes an alternate point of view to see its worth. I had no wishes of being anywhere else at this point in my life. There was no need to think about what could have happened, because I leaped into that pool of adventure and emerged no longer fearful of facing the unknown and finding worth in the rubble.