Writing has always been my go-to way of letting things out. It helps clear my mind and say things I couldn’t speak out loud, mainly because I’m not the best at talking, that’s for sure. But if there’s one thing I’m really good at, it’s overthinking. I think about the past, the present, and even stuff that hasn’t happened yet. I also wonder if things could have gone differently—sometimes better, sometimes worse. It’s been months since I last wrote in my journal, and I wasn’t planning on doing it today either. I was in bed, way past my bedtime, just waiting to fall asleep. But sleep didn’t come. My mind had other plans. Out of the blue, I started thinking about my time on the ship—sailing across the world with 17 people I’d never met before and probably would never see again. Yet, I remember every single one of them. I remember their names, their faces, and how I felt around them. Each of them had their own stories, their dreams, and things they were committed to. Most of the time, we we...