When I told my bus driver I was hopping off in Waitomo, he responded, “Why? The only thing to do there is Blackwater Rafting. You’ll be bored out of your mind, but good luck.”

I didn’t let his negativity sway me. He didn’t know about the connections I had in Waitomo who assured my lack of boredom.

The day I left for New Zealand, I woke to the sound of my mother vomiting.

My eyes snapped open.

Oh no… She won’t be able to see me off at the airport with Dad!

I detangled myself from my sheets and sprinted into the living room.

That problem intensified when I found Dad vomiting over the sink, as my mom had claimed the bathroom.

The night I changed my life, I turned out all the lights. I embraced the darkness that fought to keep me bound in chains, circled candles around me, and summoned forth enough light to be bathed, but not enough to be consumed. I sat with a beating heart, my mind alight with an unfathomable number of questions. How can I make a change to my life? How can I make the best of this broken heart? Why can’t I seem to find any happiness?