Waiting to fly.

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It’s only 9 am and I’ve come close to crying more times than I can count. This stress reminds me of heartbreak simply because it’s making me want to crack under the pressure of something huge; something I feel I can’t get through. It’s only a day though. A moment, really. And moments pass. I thought heartbreak would never pass – but it did, and if I got through that, I can get through a few hours of hard work, surely.

And then I’ll be on a plane. I love flying. I’m afraid of heights but when I’m on a plane, that height is unfathomable to me so I’m not frightened of it. Instead, I’m eternally fascinated: I love the grumbling rush of the plane as it ploughs down the runway, I find the lift-off always takes me by surprise – it always happens sooner than I expect – and I love that feeling of suddenly being weightless and airborne. I never tire of seeing the earth shrink by degrees, and watching cars and humans rush around their day like tiny lego people in a child’s make-believe world. Then, even that disappears under layers and layers of cloud. Those clouds. I wish so much that I could play in them. Continue reading Waiting to fly.