The darkest of ink

I was curious to know, what day it was that I moved to Quebec, so I looked it up in my diary. Found the date: 29th of January 2012. Found this as well:

"Having a destination

is not to fit in the crib the body was born in

It is to cross one border after the next 

and die without none"

I was feeling confused about my decision and nervous of making the biggest mistake of my life. I calmed myself with these wise words of another human being. Who it was that once spoke these words or how I found them, I did not think important enough to write down. I rarely do. Ignorance is a bliss that I ever so often kiss.
If somebody would have told me that in exactly 3 years I will be living alone in the gay village of Montreal, I will have a job I enjoy, I will study in the evening at McGill University, I will work out 3 times a week at a gym with nice smelling gay men ...

... well I would have felt even more confused. Especially about the part of smelling gay men at the gym. It's true however. I workout being surrounded with good looking, well dressed, good smelling men. I'm there but I could just as well not be there and they wouldn't notice. It's almost like watching a 3D movie. It all seem so real and you feel part of it, except that you're not. I really enjoy this absurd feeling and as it helps me gain muscle and loose weight, it's obviously even better than a movie.

Two years after I set out on my journey, somebody very close to me chose the same date to set out on a journey of his own. He, however, never made it back home. His destiny was written in dark and cold ink. The same that nightmares are made of. A nightmare or a horrible movie you don't want to be a part of, except that you are. Except that it is not a nightmare or a movie, it is reality. Coldest and darkest of reality. The 29th of January will never be the same, it will always be written in the darkest of ink in my diary.