So swung by romance of a scholarly life at my dream school and meeting a man I've spent over a year talking to, I booked a ticket to Ithaca, NY.

Perhaps the dreams were too heavy on my shoulders, leaning too deeply into my heart, strapped with too many pounds on my ankles--but I never boarded.

I never tried for myself.

That afternoon, I cracked open a bottle of Grey Goose at my grandmother's house to celebrate my self-sabotage.