Time-travel is possible.

Listening to the iPod I haven't touched in almost a year is like opening a time capsule. I'm flooded with memories, sweet or bitter, all poignant, of that difficult time in my life. Energetically dancing alone in my old apartment, headphones in, vacuuming. Riding the train home from work, feeling wrenched away from love and support with every mile, and trying to steel myself for another evening at home in the minefield. On the treadmill after the night's latest round of explosions, longing to be anywhere but here. Ignoring the pain, I'd run until my lungs burned and my heart burst, imagining that if I could just run fast enough, I could finally break free. Before, when people would mention their divorce, I never knew whether to offer condolences or congratulations. Now I know the correct response is always "I'm so sorry".