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I think many of you can relate when I say that staying up late is almost dangerous. It’s dark, it’s quiet, and you’re alone. The sad thoughts and memories show up uninvited but, if you’re lucky enough, sleep will save you. Well, I couldn’t sleep last night and somewhere between the flashbacks, I remembered a trip that I had been trying so hard to forget. It had taken place almost a year ago, sometime in the middle of February. I remembered this ticket, got up and went through a few drawers until I find it, buried inside a box. I held it in my hands for a brief moment and then I looked at it. I looked at it, unfolded it, read through it and then I cried. Not because I was sad. Not because I was angry.

If you look at the picture of the itinerary, you’ll see that my departure was on January 28, 2009. I had fully thought that I hadn’t taken this trip until mid-February and realizing that I had taken it weeks sooner broke my heart. It may seem pathetic or stupid, but before finding this ticket, I was okay with where I was in life. I was hopeful and motivated and I kept telling myself that it hadn’t been a year yet. I guess I had set the one year anniversary as a deadline and I still had a few weeks to change, to get back to where I was before that trip. But January 28 passed by and I had no clue. Now I don’t know what to do or where I stand because it’s been more than a year and all I’ve done is stand still.

I know I could write a hundred pages describing this ticket and how it was the beginning of everything that changed me. I could tell you about the snowstorm or the ride back home. I could explain my anxiety disorder, which returned on January 29, 2009, and how that eventually led me to tumblr, to you. But right now I think this picture is all I can give. I just can’t bring myself to write about its significance, but, unintentionally, I suppose I’ve been writing about it ever since joining tumblr.