hope, pt. 1

One of the most vivid memories I have from the day my entire life quite literally burned down is this: suddenly I felt free. Of course there were all these other emotions going through my head--I still have all the lists I made from the time, all the coincidences. How ridiculously unlikely it all was--not just this, but everything, everything, everything. I still have this whole thing I wrote about how there's really no such thing as coincidence or even probability. Either something happened or it didn't.

My mind, my sense of being, my sense of self, were completely shattered. And yet I remember, somewhere between the panic, this beautiful sense that now I could go anywhere. I could do anything. For once I felt empowered. I didn't care that buying a bus ticket east was a terrible decision. I fucking did it. The consequences didn't matter anymore because there were none left.

And I remember so clearly the feeling that anything could happen. I could make everything right again, all the things I'd fucked up so many years before. My house being destroyed, everything I own being destroyed--I felt this sense of purpose. For a few brief hours, sitting on a bus full of strangers--that was the happiest I'd been in my life.

I don't think I ever told anyone that. I didn't know where it fit in the story. I guess I still don't, but somehow it seems important now. Maybe someone else can make more sense of it than I can.

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