Two Airports, One Dream Later
There is a point, almost a location in and of itself, that is between two places. Transitional and uncommitted. Where you feel vulnerable to disaster, and not yet fully dedicated to a direction. Something's going to go wrong. I'm going to be pulled back. Made to stay.
But there is nothing to stay in. The apartment has already moved on without you. A stranger is living in it. Your possessions exist zipped up; on wheels. You have no space, no home.
I was in that point for at least three days, if not a week. It is an awful one to be in, and all I could do was fret, about nothing. Nothing; nothing. All decisions had been made, all bills paid, all money made. Just wait. Wait, they say. The powers that be. The angels of time. They would point at that clock. You're counting down.
Down. Down.
I finally flew from that point yesterday. Into the future, on Cathay Pacific Airlines. Through 20 hours of darkness, we fled the dawn above the clouds. Now I'm in Hong Kong, and the day has caught up with me. I'm wearing my sunglasses, and feel better than I have in months. Nothing left to fear from the past.
I fucking made it.
But there is nothing to stay in. The apartment has already moved on without you. A stranger is living in it. Your possessions exist zipped up; on wheels. You have no space, no home.
I was in that point for at least three days, if not a week. It is an awful one to be in, and all I could do was fret, about nothing. Nothing; nothing. All decisions had been made, all bills paid, all money made. Just wait. Wait, they say. The powers that be. The angels of time. They would point at that clock. You're counting down.
Down. Down.
I finally flew from that point yesterday. Into the future, on Cathay Pacific Airlines. Through 20 hours of darkness, we fled the dawn above the clouds. Now I'm in Hong Kong, and the day has caught up with me. I'm wearing my sunglasses, and feel better than I have in months. Nothing left to fear from the past.
I fucking made it.
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