There are moments in life when a single decision sends us down an entirely different path, shaping our future in ways we can’t predict. Right now, I stand on the edge of one of those moments, about to embark on my Latin America adventure—a journey of freedom, self-discovery, and exploration. But what if I had chosen differently? What if, instead of embracing the unknown, I had stayed in Georgia? What if I had held on to the comfort of familiarity, remaining friends with Mark, continuing life in my beautifully renovated home?

Let’s step into that parallel universe for a moment and explore what might have been.

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Had I chosen to stay in Georgia, my days would have been filled with the quiet hum of routine. The renovations on my home would have continued at a steady pace, each project bringing me closer to a vision of domestic perfection. I would have decorated, organized, and settled deeper into my suburban life, making the house even more beautiful and comfortable.

And then, of course, there would be Mark.

We would have fallen into a rhythm—texting occasionally, meeting up for dinner or a casual hangout, maybe once a week. The friendship would have been pleasant, a familiar presence in my life, a connection that was easy and effortless. He would have babysat the boys while I went on dates, a quiet but ever-present reminder of the relationship we once had. There would be moments—fleeting glances, old inside jokes, shared memories—that would make me wonder: Could we ever find our way back to each other?

But Mark is who he is. He would never change. And deep down, I know I would have continued waiting for something from him that would never come.

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Had I stayed, I would have continued dating. I would have gone on dinners and coffee dates, meeting men who were nice but uninspiring, or handsome but emotionally unavailable. Some would show potential, but none would fully ignite that fire inside me.

And yet, dating would have been a distraction. A way to convince myself that I was still moving forward while, in reality, I was standing still.

Mark, in the background, would remain the ever-reliable, non-threatening presence. The safety net. I wouldn’t have been actively hoping for reconciliation, but by keeping him in my life, I would have subconsciously left that door cracked open. The idea of “what if” would have lingered. Maybe he would eventually step up. Maybe one day, he would realize what he lost.

But he wouldn’t.

And that quiet, persistent hope—the hope that he would choose me, fight for me—would have kept me tethered to a life of almost-but-not-quite.

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My adventurous spirit—the part of me that craves freedom, exploration, and the unknown—would have slowly suffocated under the weight of comfort.

The trip to Latin America? Maybe I would have convinced myself to do Costa Rica for a summer. Just a taste of adventure, just enough to scratch the itch. But when summer ended, I would have come home, back to my life in Georgia, back to the house I had spent so much time making beautiful, back to the safe and predictable rhythm of my days.

And over time, the dream of traveling through Patagonia, exploring the ruins of Machu Picchu, and immersing myself in the rich cultures of Latin America would have become just that—a dream. A someday idea that I would tell myself I could still do later.

But later often never comes.

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Maybe a year down the road, I would have woken up one morning, sipping coffee in my perfect Georgia home, and felt a weight in my chest.

The weight of stagnation.

The realization that I had chosen the safe path, the easy one. That I had settled—not necessarily for a bad life, but for one that wasn’t fully mine.

I would have looked around my home, admired the beautiful furniture, the carefully curated space, and felt…nothing.

Because deep down, I would have known:

I was meant for more than this.

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But that’s not my story. That’s not my future.

Instead of staying, I am leaving. Instead of settling, I am expanding. Instead of waiting for life to maybe bring me something new, I am choosing something new.

I don’t know exactly what lies ahead. I don’t know what challenges, surprises, or beautiful moments will unfold. But I do know this—staying in Georgia, keeping Mark in my life, settling into a predictable routine—was never going to make me truly happy.

And so, I choose the unknown.

I choose to drive through Latin America, to wake up in new places, to live without the safety net of familiarity. I choose the version of myself that craves adventure and actually pursues it, rather than just dreaming about it.

And I choose to leave the past where it belongs.

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Had I stayed, I might have always wondered, What if I had gone?

But by going, I will never wonder, What if I had stayed?

And that makes all the difference.