In closing

The definition would suggest that it was a failure. Which then means that the entire year was in essence a failure. He felt that way. It was natural. But with all he'd been through, all he'd seen, smelled, tasted, heard, all he'd lived through, surely it could not be a failure. A week had passed & he was finally coming to terms, it still hurt having to turn around, it was just in his DNA. He hated giving up, he hated turning back, he hated life. He didnt expect anybody to understand, it was something he had to work through himself. In a way, he was still on his journey. In a way we never finish our journey. He was miserable & all could see. It was weird when he still had people asking him, 'why did you do it?' His answer was always, 'if you ask, you'll never get it.' That was the worst part of being off the road. Unless you on it, you'll never know that feeling. He would miss that the most. That would be the hardest thing to get use to again. Not being on the road. Those days stranded in the middle of no where, was priceless. All the nameless faces & facesless names. The bad reggaeton & psuedo hippies. He'd miss it all, but would see it soon again. Sad bastard music wasn't helping, neither his headspace. 'Shake it off.' It was the only way. Everything happens for a reason. Antarctica wasn't going anywhere. Although it was hard, he had come to terms with his situation. 'Accept, ignore, move on.' You'll never change what's been & gone, but you can control what will be. The last 365 days had given him everything & more. He would come back stronger for it all. He knew he would. Everything he'd been through was not a waste. The year had  not been a failure. He would moonwalk on Antarctica's snowy shores, he would swim in her frosty embrace. Today was not yet that day.

Until that day.....