The Flight

“This is it.”

I couldn’t decide then which was heavier: my baggage, taking up more than what one was allowed, or my feet, as I dragged them through the seemingly endless maze of aluminum pathways and the what ifs that endlessly grazed my head.

I could’ve sworn I was on autopilot, making turns, avoiding gazes and greetings from attendants–how could they be genuinely happy? A mere thought turned into thoughts, then into wishful thinking, that I was anywhere but here.

I sat down.

A few “sorry”s and “excuse me”s and the sound of people bumping into other people and things seemed to go on and on.. Then, a deafening whirring, and the plane took off.

Looking down, mesmerized by city lights encrusting nearly every inch of land I see, I am engulfed by these horrid, horrid feelings: Is it meant to be? Do I really not have a choice? It somehow felt like I was bargaining with reason but I really couldn’t win.

I was fighting a losing battle; I caved in, each warm tear representing every pain, every impending regret–that regardless of the fact that I could’ve chosen to be selfish, I chose to be brave instead. – SAB

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