And then it Clicked.....

Falling from the sky...... but make it c*nt.

Everything flipped on its head four months ago… wait, it’s been four months?

Yes. Surprisingly.

I’ve been through all the turbulent, Spirit-like emotions.

I’ve crashed, soared, boarded, landed, and even taken off again….. missed connections, icy roads, misread codes.

Fucking air traffic control… right?

Four months later, and I’ve finally executed the perfect landing, with the kind of precision and poise that Amelia Earhart, rest her soul, could only dream of.

(Maybe due to her own miscalculations, but more likely: Bermuda Triangle.)

Back to the point.

The point is difficult for me. Yes, it’s important, but if the point is the edge of the knife, it’s only as valuable as everything that follows.

No?

A razor-sharp edge, barely a millimeter long, might prick you.

But a razor sharp blade, the length of a yardstick?

That will kill.

Anyway. Losing my train of thought..... teeming with excitement, if you can’t tell.

Despite all the bird shit flying through the air, the turbulence, and every other unclockable foreign object honing in on its target.

I landed.

Four months later, solid ground.

Wheels intact.

Unshowered, uncertain, but hopeful.

Now..... whether this is a delusional-and-deranged-hopeful or a conscious-and-composed-hopeful?

We’ve yet to fully uncover.

We’re back on solid ground, and maybe there wasn't as much freedom behind the pilot seat as I'd assumed. That’s at least 130 days of daydreaming wasted, fantasizing about being like a bird.That's not counting the seconds I’ve spent writing this, of course.

I need to get this out before it’s stuck in my head forever.

Here’s the thing:

The plane in the sky was never freedom.

It was a gilded cage.

Despite all the fear and despair along its tumultuous journey, the plane never fell from the sky.

It landed.

But then came the real fear:

WHAT’S WAITING ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CABIN DOOR, AFTER BEING ALONE UP HERE FOR SO LONG?

HOW THE FUCK DO I INTERACT WITH CIVILIZATION AGAIN?

THIS IS WEIRD… I FEEL SEEN. THIS IS REALLLLLLY WEIRD.

Cabin door?

Keep that shit locked!!!

Lock it like your life depends on it; like all the oxygen that will ever exist is trapped in that [redacted] 747.

And then it clicked.

The door unlocked.

The sun seeped in.

That earlier hopeful?

Definitely deranged and delusional.

Freedom was never the plane in the sky.

It was never the confines of that plane, grounded.

True freedom was pushing open that cabin door, squinting into the light,

feeling that adulterated, greenhouse-gas-riddled air hit your face,

and finally letting the world really see you.