JFK airport is a perfect mirror of the city: chaotically busy with the righteous indignation of people from well over 190 countries tearing through turnstyles, with security officers paying too little attention when a real threat surfaces, all while awfully isolating in its bleakness. This is not to say that this morning has been all bad. Final goodbyes and sayonara text messages, last minute packing, the end of wireless, and cookies for breakfast (why doesn’t the international terminal have at least a bagel?!) have made my last few hours in NY reasonably un-noteworthy.
I feel more drained by the pre-departure departures. I could have used more support. I am nervous and scared. Sudan feels like an impenetrable, unstoppable clusterfuck of bad news and it’s hard to believe that I’m actually en route.
Two sappy romantic comedies about foolish early twenty somethings in NYC have left me feeling a little bit empty on this flight. I’m surrounded by many other world-wanderers, including one that even goes to school with me and will be in Sudan later this summer, but I can’t shake my feelings of isolation.
I know that once I make it to Sudan that the decision will feel right and I will feel ok about what it is that I am embarking upon. At present, I just feel blank. Thanks xanax.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment