Naked Hiker Dubrovnik, Croatia

I am scared.

I am scared because all the darkness in me is so loud and heavy.

I am scared because all the stories about people like me seem to end the same way.

I am scared because when I get like this the things that get me through have been future plans, what would happen if I didn't live to see them; what would I miss.

This year my anchors were my best friend's wedding (Bridesmaid duty round two) and Africa (three new countries and one new continent for my scratch map).

Now I can't see past this moment. This moment sucks. It feels awful. Everything hurts and yet I am numb. I am so loud that I can barely hear the rain outside. I am so dark, I devour the florescent light in this room.

Right now feels almost as bad as that one night. That night that I have been too ashamed to talk about. After two days of driving home from Denver to my parents' house, I arrived desperate for the safety of my dog. Her warmth, the texture of her fur, she smelt like warm sand in the desert and was the most comforting weight. She no longer existed in this world.

All the awfulness of Denver fell on me. All the darkness I had been staving off engulfed me.

I vaguely remember, crying on the concrete floor of Caitlin's garage. I don't remember for how long or when Sydney showed up; just that we were going out. They dressed me up in Caitlin's clothes and took me to a bar to talk to boys and consume booze. I'm sure Jeff is a lovely person but all he wanted to talk about was Dogs and Denver. Darkness was everything.

I don't remember leaving: passing through the car park, over the cement barrier, on to the sand where the street lights faded into ocean night. I don't remember taking off Caitlin's clothing, only that I folded it nicely so that I wouldn't sully the pieces with what I was about to do.

I don't remember texting Josh back or telling him where I was. Only that he showed as prayed to the universe for a riptide to make this look like an accident. Except for the neat fold of Caitlin's clothes would have given me away. Josh came, reminded me of how everyone would hurt and convinced me to give tomorrow a chance.

I feel like that now. I wish a car would collide with me while I jaywalk or that my heart would just stop before I wake. I miss feeling safe.