To my dear passport…
As much as I love you, I have found that you bring out the sadist in me. I love nothing more that seeing you get punched, by a stamp nonetheless, but punched all the same.
You see, the violence inflicted upon you means a journey for me. A trip to somewhere abroad. A chance to see and experience a life so unlike my own. A chance to open my eyes. A chance to grow.
In the next 12 months you will endure a few more punches. In just over a fortnight you will receive your first as I head to Indonesia. Then another punch when I visit New Zealand later this year, and a final blow upon visiting Malaysia in 2014. If I'm really lucky there may be a brazillian punch as well, pending whether Australia qualifies for the World Cup (and how tight the strings on my wallet are).
So you see, dear passport, the punches you endure are like badges of honour for me. We both know that one day you will be replaced, so my love for you, while temporary, is wholesome and true.
Thank you for being there when I need you the most.