You had taken a year off. You spent your Freshman year of college at the local Community College and even though people had described it as "13th Grade" and "easy", you somehow found a way to fail out both semesters. You went through some traumatic experiences that left you on the couch, watching movies all day.
One afternoon, you had a box of Pop-Tarts (strawberry) on the floor next to the couch you found yourself cemented to every afternoon. You blindly flipped through the channels hoping for something to catch your eye until you fell upon Ratatouille.
You had no interest in watching this movie. But you did anyway. No one was home, nothing else was on, and even if you wanted to get up and get out of the house, you were too lazy and defeated to try and move.
You found yourself engaged enough. You enjoyed watching Remy, the rat who is also a chef, pull that guy's hair (you don't remember his name) in order to make him cook good food. In a way, you were glad you decided to watch this movie. It was distracting you from your own problems.
But there's one scene (above) in particular that hit you like a tractor-trailer into a brick wall. You still remember it today. Remy is talking to his father and the conversation becomes one of the most poignant things you've ever heard in an animated movie. When Remy decides to leave, his father asks him where he's going. And Remy responds:
With luck, forward.
You dropped your Pop-Tart (strawberry, cold, stale) on the ground and started crying. It wasn't an embarrassing cry. It was a strong, soft, sob. You dug your face into your pillow and realized that you never realized "forward" was an option for you. You were getting ready to settle into the life you've lived. You started to believe that change was impossible. And you thought all you had left was a stagnant, soulless life.
You try and watch clips from Ratatouille every couple months or so. Or at least that scene. It reminds you that you need to keep moving. It reminds you that if you're allergic to anything, it's staying still. Of course it's not a physical need to keep moving. It's a mental one.
You look back and see where you've came from and compare it with where you are now. You don't know how you got here but you did and it's something that happened. As much as you want to believe that you do not deserve the life you went and earned. As much as you want to believe that you only had one station in life and your life plan didn't include moving out of it.
As much as you want to believe those things, you can't. You can't believe any of those things. The only thing you believe in is movement. You only believe in progression.