Invincible. That is how I feel when I manage to escape. There’s something about being alone at an airport, waiting to fly out somewhere, anywhere, really. Just take me away. It gives me… hope. Hope that everything could be different. I could be another person, with another life. I could be a French successful writer, on my way to see the love of my life, in Provence. Or just a slightly better version of myself, perhaps… less of a failure, more of a success, at everything…anything.
The people who build airports know this feeling, in fact, they rely on people like me for them to be able to earn their daily bread. It is obvious when you see the luxury boutiques and the panorama windows out to the parked planes.
I’ve been absent for a long time. Still, going away for a little while, again. This time not in thoughts, but in real life.
My best friend, who sadly passed away a few years ago, once embroidered a quote for me: “Anything else is always something better”. It was an inside joke between us, from a wonderfully silly movie called “Coctail”. But I have since come to realize that her real gift to me was knowing me, I mean really knowing me. Cause she already knew, way back, who I was, and always will be.
The escape artist.
Like a 3 year old the narcissist will stomp his feet and yell that he hates you for not giving him his way and an hour or so later he is back like nothing happened. He will kick and scream to get what he wants only to not want it once he gets it. Or he will totally ignore a toy and toss it off to the side until someone else shows an interest in it and it immediately becomes his favorite toy or like a 3 year old he wants what everyone else has and will steal it if he has to and then act like he doesn’t understand why he is in trouble.
