I’m about to quit my job to travel to 180 countries. This isn’t just a plan, it’s a dream I’ve carried since I was a boy.

When I was little, my diary had a world map on its last page. I took a pen and marked 180 countries on it. Every dot was a promise to myself: I would visit them all. I wanted to see every corner of the world, to meet its people, to feel their lives. What makes them smile? What breaks their hearts? Where do people open their homes with warmth, and where do they see a stranger as a burden? Who will greet me with love, and who might hide their anger behind a forced smile?

Then reality struck. I googled my passport and learned it’s one of the weakest in the world. I’m from Pakistan. Traveling visa-free? Almost impossible. Getting visas? A maze of paperwork and rejections awaits me.

Even as a child, I knew we’re all the same. A heart beats the same in every chest, black, white, or brown. Have you ever heard that someone from America has different lungs than someone from the Philippines? Or that the blood of a person in Australia is a different shade than someone in India? No. We’re all human. Our faces, our skin, they’re just markers of who we are, not measures of our worth. So why do our cultures clash? Why do our languages differ? Why does one person’s joy look so different from another’s?

These questions burned in me. I wanted to travel the world to find answers. And I wanted to share the stories of my journey, so others could feel the world through my eyes.

But life had other plans. I grew up, finished school, and landed a job at a law firm. My days became a blur of endless files and courtrooms. I told myself, “Work hard now, travel later.” But the files kept piling up. For every case I closed, two more appeared. The work never stopped.

Leaving a demanding law job to chase a lifelong passion for travel

It’s a good job, though. At 8 a.m., when I stand outside the court, people look at me with respect. To those I represent, I’m a lifeline. I fight to free a son from jail or to save someone’s land from being stolen. In family courts, women watch me walk by, hoping I’ll win them justice for themselves and their children. Fathers, too, lean on me when false accusations tear their families apart. Their hopes weigh heavy on my shoulders.

This work swallowed my time. Days turned into years, and I barely noticed. But deep down, I knew, this wasn’t my dream. My dream was to wander the world, to meet its people, to tell their stories.

One day, sitting in my office, that dream roared back to life. It hit me hard: if I don’t chase it now, I never will. I’m young, strong, ready. But time doesn’t wait. One day, I’ll be old, too frail to roam. That day in my office, I made a choice. It’s time to leave my job, to follow the dream I scribbled in that diary as a boy.

Then reality struck. I googled my passport and learned it’s one of the weakest in the world. I’m from Pakistan. Traveling visa-free? Almost impossible. Getting visas? A maze of paperwork and rejections awaits me.

But I won’t let that stop me. No obstacle is bigger than my will. Yes, the road ahead will test me. It will try to break me. But my heart is set, and my resolve is iron. When your dream burns brighter than your fears, nothing can hold you back.

Will you come with me? Be my friend, follow my story, and see the world through my eyes. Or maybe you’d like to help, any small gesture, any support, will carry me closer to this dream. Every step you take with me makes this journey real.

Don’t stop reading here. Join me. Let’s write this story together.

Write email to writer at kazmi@storily.me