late tuesday/early wednesday: disturbing phone conversation. disturbing even to me, so drunk i could barely move. i claim i will be on a plane in the morning. you don't believe me. i don't believe me. 5 hours later i am puking in the richmond airport bathroom. then i'm on a plane. 3 tylenol pm's at 8 in the morning. i honestly believe i am going to die on that plane. there are no words to describe how much i fucking hate flying. 

90 minutes later im at jfk. i buy a book. i sit on a filthy floor. i wonder what the fuck i am doing. i can't eat or sleep and i get on the next plane. almost 6 terrifying, bumpy, hours later i land in slc. 

i am shaking.

a cigarette.

a cheeseburger with pastrami on it. 

i am shaking less. 

there's a shower, a change of clothes. after 15 unanswered phone calls throughout the day, a text message. 

am i there yet?

i am.

i imagined that moment a billion times. 

5 years seemed like 5 minutes. barely. 

we should've gone to vegas. or at least the tattoo shop. 

less than 48 hours, to open wounds i forgot i had. 

questioning my decision to come. maybe i just made it worse. 

it was worth it. 

8 am. i meant every word. 

walking out that door into the taxi was the worst moment of my life. there was only one reason i did it, and you know. you have the same one. 

i thought maybe there would be closure. but not even close. 

i hope you don't get pinkeye.