thirty-five

15:02:03

I'm sleepless at 27G on ME202.

I'm eager to return to Beirut, to unpack and to re-embrace my reality. An out-of-proportion storm has been stirred up in my cup of tea and as autumn begins to creep into my consciousness, I want to sit back and watch the tea leaves leave the hypnotizing swirl and sink to the bottom of the glass where they will dance until the earth stops moving from beneath my feet. I want to be still like those tea leaves and meditate on the now. My itch to run has been scratched.

Sometimes I wonder whether I will ever be able to turn around and face myself*. I'm always ahead of myself, always running, always escaping. Nothing can keep me still, not even an arrow to the heart. Shot, I limp and struggle like a pierced deer, spraying my blood everywhere, but taking my heart to die alone inside me.

I escaped the summer months by falling in love with a man who wasn't there. I escaped the only thing that kept us apart by flying over to see him. I escaped reality by forgetting that we were strangers. I escaped the love by smoking it as fast as I could. I escaped the goodbye by being late for my flight and by being angry. I escaped back to where he isn't. But will I escape my regrets?

I have to. Time moves forward. I have to move forward.