Nothing sucks like when one of your favorite artists releases a new album days after your four year relationship ends and it’s chalked-full of tracks that describe your exact state of mind, each song creating a unique cocktail of emotions including but not limited to: overwhelming sadness, equally unjustified yet defiant hope, trepidation, lament, melancholy, headaches, nausea, diarrhea and night terrors, regret, mild to moderate crying, punchable confidence, and the strong resentment to scientists in general because time travel has yet to be invented.
When the airplane’s nose finally aligned west, the engines roared before a sudden burst of speed sent the vessel down the runway but then quickly upwards, mocking man’s limitations as we engaged in glorious flight. I left quickly, bags packed and emotionally shattered ass on an airplane within four days of the decision to go home. After the hours stuck in traffic on the highway, the goodbye, the four hours and 742 cigarettes outside of the Pearson terminal waiting for my delayed flight, the realization of the length of time left to endure stuck in a turbulent metal cylinder between two dudes seemed daunting. An intrusive thought struck, and I silently hoped that if the plane was going to crash that it happen earlier in the flight.
I haven’t read a newspaper or website in three weeks. I have no idea what’s going on in the world. It’s kinda nice.