I don't have a photograph for this. Try to use your imagination.
I hate flying. All it is about is time. Clocks and calenders that are always chasing after us. Our little measurements, trying to make sense of each perfectly horrible moment. It's too much to only think about. You wait or you're running to make sure you get there.. ON TIME. It's rather nerve racking. You sit and all you can do is day dream about the future or remember what you left. You are in a purgatory with thousands of other confused people, not sure if what they are doing is right. Flying to something new or back to something old. There is no present in an airport. There is nothing but cafes next to restaurants next to chairs that look the same and sometimes shopping centers. Brilliant. Numb the pain by consumption of shit we don't need. Spend yourself. Sell yourself. Same thing.
You wait. And then the last flight, finally. The last hour comes and your gut wrenches in horror as you realize you want to go back. The unknown awaits you, but it isn't really unknown. You can feel what's coming. Your feet twitch as the captain announces landing time. Twenty minutes. Can't turn back, and you wonder why the fuck you didn't think of that before boarding in the first place. Because the waiting doesn't allow feeling. Your mind was too consumed with numbers. Stare out the window because you don't know what else to do. It's hard to understand that all of those little squares contain the real life you left. Hit the ground and stomach's gone. Can't believe you're here after all of that. Back like it never happened. Nothing to show for it except yourself. But you aren't the same.. leave the sleeping drug dealer. Find a mirror and make sure you're still a person. Call them and tell them you're here. Don't act nervous because you know they're so happy. Are they? You fear jealousy, misunderstanding. There is no way to explain what happened to you in those six weeks away. Anxiety that won't ever be alleviated takes over you. But you missed them so much, remember? Remember leaving? The doors slide open, you step outside and there he is. There they are. He's smiling but you can't read him like you used to. You hug and it's awkward because you didn't put your bags down. Why? Kiss and feel your love for him, but it's foreign. Like you must be. You don't know what to say. Look in his eyes and you can feel the truth.
Something cold and dark has been brewing in our minds. We won't tell you why, but everything is different now. Welcome home, you won't feel right here anymore.
I hate flying. All it is about is time. Clocks and calenders that are always chasing after us. Our little measurements, trying to make sense of each perfectly horrible moment. It's too much to only think about. You wait or you're running to make sure you get there.. ON TIME. It's rather nerve racking. You sit and all you can do is day dream about the future or remember what you left. You are in a purgatory with thousands of other confused people, not sure if what they are doing is right. Flying to something new or back to something old. There is no present in an airport. There is nothing but cafes next to restaurants next to chairs that look the same and sometimes shopping centers. Brilliant. Numb the pain by consumption of shit we don't need. Spend yourself. Sell yourself. Same thing.
You wait. And then the last flight, finally. The last hour comes and your gut wrenches in horror as you realize you want to go back. The unknown awaits you, but it isn't really unknown. You can feel what's coming. Your feet twitch as the captain announces landing time. Twenty minutes. Can't turn back, and you wonder why the fuck you didn't think of that before boarding in the first place. Because the waiting doesn't allow feeling. Your mind was too consumed with numbers. Stare out the window because you don't know what else to do. It's hard to understand that all of those little squares contain the real life you left. Hit the ground and stomach's gone. Can't believe you're here after all of that. Back like it never happened. Nothing to show for it except yourself. But you aren't the same.. leave the sleeping drug dealer. Find a mirror and make sure you're still a person. Call them and tell them you're here. Don't act nervous because you know they're so happy. Are they? You fear jealousy, misunderstanding. There is no way to explain what happened to you in those six weeks away. Anxiety that won't ever be alleviated takes over you. But you missed them so much, remember? Remember leaving? The doors slide open, you step outside and there he is. There they are. He's smiling but you can't read him like you used to. You hug and it's awkward because you didn't put your bags down. Why? Kiss and feel your love for him, but it's foreign. Like you must be. You don't know what to say. Look in his eyes and you can feel the truth.
Something cold and dark has been brewing in our minds. We won't tell you why, but everything is different now. Welcome home, you won't feel right here anymore.
