I’m sitting in a Burger King right now. Checked in for my flight, head home here in just an hour or so.

What has this trip meant to me?

I originally embarked on this trip filled with zero expectations. I think I managed that. I never set anything in stone on things I had to get done, places I had to see, or people I had to meet. I did a good job on that.

However, I don’t know why I feel like I didn’t do enough this trip. It could have something to do with my crippling depression & constant need for naps throughout the trip to pass some time. But when I think about those naps, they managed to get me through some really tough mental moments.

I leave Maine knowing I saw what I could see. I ventured out as much as I could. I did give it my all. Now I head home without an ounce of knowledge on what to do next, & that’s a scary thought.

My parents will be there for me. My dogs will be there for me.

What did I learn about myself this trip? I still have a knack for meeting strangers and befriending them. That’s good to know. Maybe when I get back home it’ll be time to head back out to bars, to head back out & just talk with people. Maybe I’ll make some new friends. Maybe I’ll rekindle friendships with those that I’ve put aside recently due to my mental state.

This was a positive trip. I maybe cried a bit more than I’d care to admit, but I did something I didn’t think was possible for me. Hell, I thought I might drive off a cliff when I was heading up & down Cadillac Mountain, I was that poor off. But I didn’t. I’m still here. Fighting. Living somewhat, but mostly fighting.

I can’t wait to see my dogs. I can’t wait to be in my own bed. I am excited for what’s next. I’m proud to feel that way.

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.