Ticket

Your hand lingers on the button for just a moment, you look over the travel details again, confirm connections, calculate pennies in your bank account, calculate joy in your heart. Push the button. 

A whole new trip reveals itself into your life, speaks of as yet unseen wonders, of long awaited thrills, you think it had been a minute since you had a ticket in your back pocket but that isn't true at all, it's been a year of tickets in your back pocket, been a year of making up for lost time, and you are not ignorant to the treasure chest that cracked open inside of you as the Darkness walked out. 

The vastness of the world becomes trite when you try to put it into words, becomes small in containment, cannot possibly paint its entire spectrum onto a blank sheet of paper. But you cannot not try. You cannot go through a life without turning it into words, because you do not know how to know it unless it is shaped into serifs, do not know how to bring the world without you unless you can bind it and carry it under your arm. 

January waxes and wanes in that cloudy space behind your eyes, but for the first time in years, it hasn't taken over the blood in your veins, the breath in your lungs. For the first time in years, you feel as though you can trust you'll make it out alive, feel like spring is just another lightness on the horizon, not a frail lifeline on which your every step hangs. 

Feel like you've found that the answer you were looking for
was in your own hand all along.