Don’t seek to build your home under the shadow of a tree. Shadows tend to move, you see. This empty fortune cookie world can be so out of tune as a whole. I’m going back. Sometime tomorrow I’ll be with my peeps. I got the elixir with me. Like I said, the battle was won. We can relax now for a bit. The dragon was slayed. I got its head as a trophy to bring to my next adventure. Oh, how I’m ready and confident. But first, calls for celebration. And oh, the stories I’ll tell when I’m old. For now, still young, thou. Younger than I’ve ever been. Or so it feels right now. New born. I’ve only just begun. It starts now. Day 122. The journey back. It always starts now.
I guess I got nothing but time now. It’s awful! Humans, right? :)) Can’t even smoke. Don’t feel the need… and also it makes me feel sick if I force myself to do it. I tried. I prefer the arrival gate, rather than departures. Even thou I ain’t moving now from this place, just because I’m meh, and here, and sitting, departure people are calm, bored and boring. Arrival people, now that’s a different story. They are agitated, moving, confused, running into one another, dragging huge baggage, losing each other, looking for each other, finding each other, forgetting what language they’re supposed to speak, scared by the unpredictability of the weather, calling, shouting, being called, angry at the bad internet speed.
I really wish I could smoke a cigarette. I remember again I haven’t slept a single minute last night; can’t fucking sleep before a long, hard, exciting trip. So convenient. I treated myself with smoothies and carbs. It’s funny how sometimes we find ourselves in a state in which we would accept dying. There was a fire alarm and smoke at the arrival entrance, of course, before I treated myself, so I was still feeling sick, and I heard myself think “is this a terrorist attack? Would I be ok with dying now? Yes I would. In fact, I hope it is a terrorist attack right now”. Ha ha. Not that unusual, thou. I have a habit of asking myself in as many diverse contexts if I’d be ok with dying in that particular moment of my life. I learn a lot about myself that way, and I also teach myself stuff. And most often the answer is yes. I think it should always be yes. So, to lay down some context, thou. 11.10.2017 London, Luton, 14:32, plane leaves at 17:35. I can’t wait to be in my seat, 30F, and up in the air, in the sky.
Out of it all. I think about Simo. I CAN NOT EVER THINK ABOUT SIMO AND ME AND NOT SEE WHAT HAPPENS WITH US AS THE EXACT PERFECT THING THAT NEEDS TO HAPPEN. Weird, right? I cannot believe how much wisdom I stored on my blog. And what’s surprising is that my fear of consuming or running out of novelty is not even close to being a reality. I’m also surprised beyond measure and glad that I don’t do drugs anymore. I am now part of the select group of people that did drugs, don’t do ‘em anymore, but are not against drugs :)). I can hardly wait to see what this brings. I guess it’s my turn now, to kill time until we fly, just like time has been killing me so far, for a while now. I still love the fact that no one that passes knows me. I’m proud of myself I kept myself out of the stories my mind has still been trying to create these past 4 months. Oh boy, it’s been so challenging, I don’t even know how I did it. What was it inside me that kept making the right decision. I love airports. I think I can smoke soon, but I still don’t feel the need. Wtf? :))
When I get home I have some mailing to do. You know what’s weird? I never question any of these weird, magical, irrational things I do. I love doing them. I love writing, I love traveling, I love being free, I love walking with no particular place to go, I love dancing, I love missing my body, I hope I pay it more care and attention in the present future. You know how much I love writing? I love it so much that if I lose track of time so bad that it would have passed over 4 hours and I miss the plane because I just kept writing, it would make me love it even more. I’ll do some people gazing now.
I will miss England. I kinda already do. I loved it here. Remember when I said I hate it here? Ha ha. Life. But I’m not all that surprised. I miss myself more, thou. What a funny feeling, all day today, when I’m leaving, I felt like I fit in here more than any other day from the 122 days. Oh, you, nature of the universe, you. I have more styles of writing than I have readers :)) and I don’t know which one you like more, but for me, it is this one right here. This style is the one that brings me most freedom. I keep seeing impossible people. And they look sooo much alike with people I know, I almost feel guilty for not shouting out :)) (and also I want to write with emoticons today, makes me feel good). And the thing is, it’s not the first time this shit happens to me, with recognizing people from my life onto, well, most certainly other human vessels. I stop writing for now.
I guess I’m still part of the morphic resonance of the purgatory until 17:35. I went to check out some more of the poor arrivals until I check in. COYLE is one of the names written on a piece of white paper one of the black tuxedo bearded man is holding, waiting with a brand new list of simulations for the lost soul. I exercise seeing reality as simulation. It’s liberating in a way. I still have a tone to learn. I’m happy to be here, thou. In this reality, in this life. It’s kind of a beautiful thing. I’m happy and grateful to have met all of you.
Two hours away. I’m in the doable interval. I’ll do some more people gazing at arrivals, smoke a cigarette and wish good luck to the new comers. Luck is the best.
And now, back to present future. Here I come. Here, I, am, now.