I woke up in a scared, sweaty, cocoon of sheets. I was breathing heavily because I had just awoken from another memory. A worse one this time.

A little girl, waiting in a garden.
"Give me five minutes, I'll be right back."
"People always say that."
"Am I people? Do I even look like people? Trust me, I'm a Doctor. Geronimo!" And off I went into the pool in the library. I told her five minutes, told her I'd be right back. I lied. It wasn't five minutes. It was 12 years.
"No, no, no. No. I can't be six months late I said 5 minutes, I promised." Jump cut to that fateful garden again, but in place of the little girl is a woman.
"You said six months, why did you say six months?"
"We've got to go!"
"This matters! This is important. Why'd you say six months?"
"Why did you say five minutes!?"
Now, ahead a couple of years. Five. Five years without the Ponds. Now, a dream within a dream is happening. It wasn't real, but it felt real. Because she had to wait again. Now, back to reality. Quarantine facility in Appalapachia. Sunsets, spires, soaring silver colonies, all just to see a bunch of doors. We went in green anchor, she went in red waterfall. And that's when everything went wrong. The two streams facility. And if I went in there, I would be dead in a day. She was in there a week when it had only been a few minutes for us. We could be in there for a day, and she would live out her whole life. She went to a garden first, because that's where she met me. She thought I would save her, that I would finally show up in a garden. She waited for us. For 36 years. And in that time, she learned how to kill the kindness bots, how to create a sonic probe, and everything that there was wrong with me. The memories were so vivid, so real. And the last scene. Not a memory, but an actual nightmare. New York, sitting in a garden, reading the newspaper. Forgetting about me. She had a notebook beside her, and she forgot about me. Or, was trying to, anyways. She put down the newspaper and opened the notebook. Inside were journal entries about how much she hated me and how she wished that when I was gone, and she had her wedding, how she wished I'd stay gone. If it was her way, she'd never have wanted me to show up in her garden. Sure, I made her life exciting, and then I left her. Abandoned her in New York to live out her life and die.

And that's when I woke up. In a scared mess. And I wonder what she's actually doing in New York. My nightmare makes it seem like she hates me, but what is she actually doing? Does she really hate me? Or is it just my mind playing tricks?

I look down at the map that was on the floor. It must have fallen from my hands last night without me realizing. It doesn't really matter though, it's just a folded piece of paper. Sure, I drew a map on it, but those are only pen scratches to me now. It doesn't matter what I do, nothing will change. It doesn't matter if I fill in all the building's names, it will just be some ink on a piece of paper. Nothing will change.

This map leads nowhere. Nothing exciting will happen because of it, and nothing on it is exciting. Except maybe the dot that I marked off where the ladder was. It was bad enough that I escaped into a box everyday, but it would be worse if everyone down there knew about it. So, I made a staircase, well, the TARDIS made a staircase, and at the bottom of it is a ladder. I'm pretty tall, so it's easy for me to get the ladder, but not anyone else. It's also invisible to make sure no one sees it.

It's my escape, my getaway. No one else's. People used to travel with me, but they don't any more. They can live their whole lives with me, but I can't live my whole life with them. And that's when it starts to hurt. They can wait their whole lives to see me again, and I may never show up. And it's always young people. Not for some dramatic love interest like it would be in some TV show or something, it's because they haven't seen anything. And they can still run. And anyways, my life isn't like a TV show. It's real. And no matter how many times I've tried to turn down the volume or switch the channel, I haven't been able to.

But back to young people. The older you get the 'wiser' you get. Not really, you just see more, have experienced more. Have had many more happy and sad days than people in their 20's. And when you're in your 20's, all you want to do is see the world, and I give them a better opportunity than some expensive, uncomfortable airline. No more asking people to move their seats up because you need more leg space, or having to wait 10 hours to get somewhere. You have all the space in the world, and you can get to wherever you want in seconds. But it all goes by too fast. And the running. If you can't run, you're basically dead. I don't have plans and have no idea what I'm doing.

But this map, it's absolutely worthless. It blows away and can be replaced in a second, not that I would need it. This map just tells me where I am, not what I'm doing. It's not telling me to go save the world, or giving me any hope, it's just a piece of paper. And I don't need any more pieces of paper in my life; my journals are enough. It's not telling that I've saved planets, or that I will stop wars. Which is kind of good, in my case. My first adventure with Amelia is when we saved Earth, and on our last adventure, I couldn't even save her. So, maybe it's a good thing that's it's just a piece of paper. I would rather have a map leading nowhere than thoughts leading to my sadness. Or worse; my death.