There are Parts Missing
I... I'm not really sure why I did it. It was just something that felt right, like something I needed to do. I drove down to LAX and took the first flight that was headed across the Pacific. Australia would have been my first choice of destination as some sort off sick irony I guess. I decided on Hawaii instead. Less stuff to deal with, no customs.
The flight itself was what I needed. I had to feel the cabin pressure press against my ears as the plane rose from it's takeoff. The flight attendants were nice, said the Oceanic Golden Pass covered the funds for drinks too. The plane ride went through without a hitch and then it was over. I was in Hawaii.
I stayed at one of the airport bars for a while to occupy my time and less than an hour later on was on a flight back home. I fell asleep and slept pretty heavily until I woke up back in LA. It was over. I felt like my day was wasted. I knew I wasn't actually going anywhere, but I wanted something to happen, something definitive. The last time I booked a plane flight, regardless of the consequences one way or another, it changed my life. While I was up there, in the window looking down, I could feel the turbulence in my head. I remembered how the plane lurched forward and my stomach felt like it was plummeting to my feet before I blacked out. A part of me waited and waited for that to happen and it never came. I didn't feel validation or relief that nothing had happened, that I was alive. I was angry. I wanted that plane to go down, and I didn't think of all the people it would be taking with it. I was selfish. Oh God, I was so selfish and I just didn't care.
I don't know what it was that I wanted: the impact, finding that place again, or just wanting everything to be over. Ever since I got back I've tried to be happy, but I know I'm not the same. Anytime I smile seems like only a faked temporary relief. I used to be so sure of everything. Now the only thing I know for sure is that I've already booked more tickets to Hawaii. If nothing changes I guess I'll see about international travel.
The flight itself was what I needed. I had to feel the cabin pressure press against my ears as the plane rose from it's takeoff. The flight attendants were nice, said the Oceanic Golden Pass covered the funds for drinks too. The plane ride went through without a hitch and then it was over. I was in Hawaii.
I stayed at one of the airport bars for a while to occupy my time and less than an hour later on was on a flight back home. I fell asleep and slept pretty heavily until I woke up back in LA. It was over. I felt like my day was wasted. I knew I wasn't actually going anywhere, but I wanted something to happen, something definitive. The last time I booked a plane flight, regardless of the consequences one way or another, it changed my life. While I was up there, in the window looking down, I could feel the turbulence in my head. I remembered how the plane lurched forward and my stomach felt like it was plummeting to my feet before I blacked out. A part of me waited and waited for that to happen and it never came. I didn't feel validation or relief that nothing had happened, that I was alive. I was angry. I wanted that plane to go down, and I didn't think of all the people it would be taking with it. I was selfish. Oh God, I was so selfish and I just didn't care.
I don't know what it was that I wanted: the impact, finding that place again, or just wanting everything to be over. Ever since I got back I've tried to be happy, but I know I'm not the same. Anytime I smile seems like only a faked temporary relief. I used to be so sure of everything. Now the only thing I know for sure is that I've already booked more tickets to Hawaii. If nothing changes I guess I'll see about international travel.