Boarding the plane was giving me PTSD, luckily I knew not to eat my diarrhea explosion burrito again. But I caved a little a bought a bottle of diet A&W for the ride, I could hear it slushing vigorously around in the bottom of my bag. The last thing I needed was a brown sticky- o that sounds weird- the soda to explode on my face

As I took my seat in the back row of the plane that odd torturously electric tingle reached down the back of my neck and through my spine.

"Fuck", I blurted out loud, I hoped I wasn't drawing any attention, I needed another Xanax. The plane began to shake as we rolled out of the runway and into the sky. Wyoming or Montana was beautiful. As the blades of the plane cut through the fragile clouds I could catch a glimpse of the bright earthy greens and blues. Everything felt so alive, almost human in the way it breathed. No city lights and no traffic, it was beautiful.

"Ryland", I thought to myself, the mystic daze quickly faded as I remembered he might as well think me to be dead. I quickly dialed his number into my small 2010 blackberry. I forgot I had no service so I saved it to my contacts.

The flight went by fast, god I was just happy to be out of Montana. It hit again, that heart-wrenching pain stabbed me deeper than it ever had. I felt weak, But I continued forward as I strutted off the plane.

As I went to pick up my luggage, a medium height, blonde girl with small blue eyes tapped me on my shoulder. "Are you Shane Dawson?!", I was utterly SHOOK, nobody has noticed me for a year.. well they have but I haven't taken a picture with a fan since 2019. "OINK OINK", I said with a child like giggle. She looked uncomfortable, almost bewildered by the sound, then slowly walked away.

I've lost it, my shine, looking in the mirror I noticed I didn't even look like myself, I was a middle-aged man sporting a suspiciously unkempt beard, wearing pink Montana sweat pants... I would've walked away too.

Though, that didn't help to dissipate the shame of it all. I brushed it off and trailed my bulky Gucci bags behind me as I again attempted to flag down a cab of some sort.

Hell, I made it, I was in Seattle. As I walked to the parking lot my eye was caught by a sun-bleached sign reading, "The City of Goodwill." What a bad slogan I thought.

I booked a reservation with a local day's inn, not my best but I was in a hurry and it was only. a mile from the airport.

As I finally caught the eye of a cab driver we were finally on our way to the hotel. The ride was short and quiet, just what I needed.

The inn was run down and fairly empty, there was a pool outside that looked as though it had been left empty for years, with fallen leaves and old pool equipment stuck to the bottom. Diverted my attention from the pool to the front desk. A man greeted me with a rehearsed smile and said, "Welcome to Days Inn, do you have any reservations or shall I book you a room?". "No, I have one," I said with a weak grin. I gave him my name and after a few minutes of checking information and small talk about the weather he handed me my card and wished me farewell.

It felt so good to finally be alone, at this point I had practically forgotten about Forks. I just needed a nap, a long long nap.