It’s right there, burning a hole in my pocket. My ticket out of here. I’ve thought about this moment for years, replayed it in my dreams late at night: stepping onto the bus, waving goodbye, not looking back as the streets I’ve known my whole life disappear behind me.
There’s fear, sure. But behind it, something wild and electric—possibility. The idea that there’s a different life waiting, one where I choose the rules, where every morning feels like the first day. Maybe I’ll stumble. Maybe I’ll fall flat, but right now, with this ticket in my hand, all I feel is hope.There’s fear, sure. But behind it, something wild and electric—possibility. The idea that there’s a different life waiting, one where I choose the rules, where every morning feels like the first day. Maybe I’ll stumble. Maybe I’ll fall flat, but right now, with this ticket in my hand, all I feel is hope.
