A 5-minute freewrite on “your ticket out of here.

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.