I shot this one time... eh?
Oh sorry, won’t get into details right now. -saves for another time-
It’s the way I love you. I really, really do.
There are many things I share with you. My secrets. My crushes. My favorite OTP. My pants. (okay, well not really as in the same pair of pants. I would probably butcher your pants with my much wider and longer legs, but it’s the fact that you don’t object when I happen to buy the same pair as you.)
And here I am. It’s just about time to for me to go to bed (I really hope you are sleeping. If not, go to bed!!! Okay. You’re probably reading this when the night is over but whatever) and I have a lot of random thoughts sweeping through the inner parts of my brain. (I wonder where thoughts actually sweep. Maybe they just sweep anywhere. I don’t know. I just write whatever sounds cool.)
This week will be wonderful. I never get the chance to meet with you when I feel like it. I can’t just call you up and go “hey, let’s do something today!”
This is a whole week of days where I can pretend I just called you up and you said “oh sure, let’s go into the sauna!” (this may actually sound wrong in your ears) or “oh sure, we can watch some drama and be slobs for the day”. I will treasure this week with you more than ever.
I apologize already for the panic attacks I will be having the next time we speak. You see, I have never flown anywhere by myself before. There are plenty of scenarios I can imagine in which I don’t even reach your place just because of a plane. Just so you see I’m not kidding you, I shall leave you some examples.
Scenario 1
I get stuck in the metal detector thingy because somehow I’m wearing a belt which no one told me to take off, and I had no clue I was wearing it because I never wear belts and then someone has to touch me all over my body to see if I don’t have anything lethal on me, like for what all this person knows, I could be a ninja assassin and jump around with sexy abs and no shirt and like, that would be awful. And then this guy who’s touching me isn’t even Joon-oppa, he’s just a dude with long, unbrushed hair and sweaty armpits. And somehow they find drugs on me and I have to spend the rest of the evening getting questioned in a room with some kind of good cop, bad cop scenario going on and the only one I know who has been in that situation is Jackie Brown and look what happened to her. Okay, if I remember correctly she managed to swindle herself a whole lot of money, but that’s not the point. There was blood in cars and a scary Samuel Jackson dude. Wait, I might be confusing this with another Tarantino movie. Well… Whatever. You get what I’m saying.
Scenario 2
The thing I worry the most of is how I’m going to find my way from the metal detector area to the actual plane. When I went to London and Paris I can’t even remember that part. To me it was just a whole lot of walking and a whole lot of not knowing where the fuck I was and a whole lot of being happy that I was having grandpa right there, showing the way. And I understand that this is just Arlanda-Umeå, but I have never seen it, so therefore I imagine the worst thing ever. So there I am, walking and walking, and I can hear my flight being called. But all I can worry about is where I put my bag and which escalator to take to get to the bathroom and when I’m on the plane, how will I find my seat. And then, just as I am cursing myself for not flying more often I will walk straight into a fat biker dude with tattoos of satan on his forehead, and he steals my bag (so that’s where it was) and in desperation I run after him and do not even notice how the plane I’m so destined to be sitting on is flying away into the horizon.
Okay. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ll just have to worry about all these stuff and feel nervous and happy and giggly and tired and wonderful all at the same time, because I’m meeting you again. And then when I’m finally on that plane, I will think to myself…
This is me flying...
This is me flying through what is supposed to be cotton shaped blobs of white, but up close only looks like watery drops of fog. And soon, I won’t be alone anymore.
It’s the way I love you. I really, really do.
There are many things I share with you. My secrets. My crushes. My favorite OTP. My pants. (okay, well not really as in the same pair of pants. I would probably butcher your pants with my much wider and longer legs, but it’s the fact that you don’t object when I happen to buy the same pair as you.)
And here I am. It’s just about time to for me to go to bed (I really hope you are sleeping. If not, go to bed!!! Okay. You’re probably reading this when the night is over but whatever) and I have a lot of random thoughts sweeping through the inner parts of my brain. (I wonder where thoughts actually sweep. Maybe they just sweep anywhere. I don’t know. I just write whatever sounds cool.)
This week will be wonderful. I never get the chance to meet with you when I feel like it. I can’t just call you up and go “hey, let’s do something today!”
This is a whole week of days where I can pretend I just called you up and you said “oh sure, let’s go into the sauna!” (this may actually sound wrong in your ears) or “oh sure, we can watch some drama and be slobs for the day”. I will treasure this week with you more than ever.
I apologize already for the panic attacks I will be having the next time we speak. You see, I have never flown anywhere by myself before. There are plenty of scenarios I can imagine in which I don’t even reach your place just because of a plane. Just so you see I’m not kidding you, I shall leave you some examples.
Scenario 1
I get stuck in the metal detector thingy because somehow I’m wearing a belt which no one told me to take off, and I had no clue I was wearing it because I never wear belts and then someone has to touch me all over my body to see if I don’t have anything lethal on me, like for what all this person knows, I could be a ninja assassin and jump around with sexy abs and no shirt and like, that would be awful. And then this guy who’s touching me isn’t even Joon-oppa, he’s just a dude with long, unbrushed hair and sweaty armpits. And somehow they find drugs on me and I have to spend the rest of the evening getting questioned in a room with some kind of good cop, bad cop scenario going on and the only one I know who has been in that situation is Jackie Brown and look what happened to her. Okay, if I remember correctly she managed to swindle herself a whole lot of money, but that’s not the point. There was blood in cars and a scary Samuel Jackson dude. Wait, I might be confusing this with another Tarantino movie. Well… Whatever. You get what I’m saying.
Scenario 2
The thing I worry the most of is how I’m going to find my way from the metal detector area to the actual plane. When I went to London and Paris I can’t even remember that part. To me it was just a whole lot of walking and a whole lot of not knowing where the fuck I was and a whole lot of being happy that I was having grandpa right there, showing the way. And I understand that this is just Arlanda-Umeå, but I have never seen it, so therefore I imagine the worst thing ever. So there I am, walking and walking, and I can hear my flight being called. But all I can worry about is where I put my bag and which escalator to take to get to the bathroom and when I’m on the plane, how will I find my seat. And then, just as I am cursing myself for not flying more often I will walk straight into a fat biker dude with tattoos of satan on his forehead, and he steals my bag (so that’s where it was) and in desperation I run after him and do not even notice how the plane I’m so destined to be sitting on is flying away into the horizon.
Okay. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ll just have to worry about all these stuff and feel nervous and happy and giggly and tired and wonderful all at the same time, because I’m meeting you again. And then when I’m finally on that plane, I will think to myself…
This is me flying...
This is me flying through what is supposed to be cotton shaped blobs of white, but up close only looks like watery drops of fog. And soon, I won’t be alone anymore.