That Same Sun.


I woke up at five in the morning, a hundred dollars to my name, and headed northeast, driving into the sunrise, watching it emerge over rural Ohio’s great expanse of corn. Sixteen hours later, forty dollars poorer, I watched that same sun set behind Vermont’s green rolling hills (mountains by my midwestern standards). In one day, I drove nearly seven-hundred miles, alone. At first I was terrified, but by Pennsylvania I had begun to get the hang of it, enjoying the loneliness. I screamed country music at the top of my lungs, stopped every time I had to pee, drank gallons of horrible gas station coffee and held entire conversation out loud by myself. Around mile three-hundred I was invincible, a self-proclaimed badass, able to go wherever the wind might take me.

Four years ago, when I moved into my freshman dorm room, I met a ray of sunshine. My roommate would quickly…

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