Sean (darksoul) wrote,

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I hadn't even stepped onto the curb before I started missing you...

There is no type of despair comparable to the despair and emptiness that comes from staring out of the window of a plane while flying through thick cloud cover. One moment you can see the world below you, a thick gray roof above it all, and then you're suddenly devoured by the clouds. The wing of the plane appears clearly out of your window, but there's nothing else to see. No sky above. No ground below. Dull gray in every direction. Logically, you realize that you're simply passing through the clouds and that soon enough you'll be looking down on it all and chuckling at yourself. But look! There's nothing out there. For all you know, the plane and it's passengers are all that remains of the world you left behind only minutes before. Seconds seem to last for minutes, minutes for hours. Time loses all meaning when you can't even measure the speed of a plane against some distant object. Suddenly you break through the nothing only to discover that you'd been flying through vast fields and mountains of white cotton. The landscape disappears into the horizon, appearing infinite. Steep mountain waves crest and crash into valleys, valleys rise and devour all that lay in their path. Spotted on the landscape are small lakes and rivers, colored with reflections of a world far below. Man was never meant to feel so detached from the world, to look down upon his home as God would look down upon it. In the sky, it's easy to forget that life is continuing on the ground far below. In the air, it's easy to forget about the walls you've erected to protect yourself. Amongst the clouds, you can escape, if only for a short time.

Walls and humor are my means of staying safe. If one doesn't hold my emotion at bay, then hopefully the other will work.

I've flown nine times now and I still find myself romanticizing air travel. Too many people take this amazing technological feat for granted. With every flight comes a minor religious experience, at least for me. Life is in the balance for the length of the flight. There is a chance that no one on board will make it to their final destination. I fear that one day my fascinated love of flying will fade. On that day I hope that I'll die a fiery death by nosedive, just to teach me a lesson about appreciating all things greater than I.

I'm not sure what to say about Cincinnati yet. The trip was good and I left feeling very relaxed. I wish I could've stayed for good longer, but I'm sure Jen and John wanted their apartment back. Being at home feels surreal. It doesn't help that my mom has gone insane (in a bad way) since I left, but whatever.

All your dreams are over now
And all your wings have fallen down.

I'm a mess now. I think that's what I needed, though the reorganization has only begun. Rebirth has yet to even peek over the horizon. One day.

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