literature

Planes, Windows and memories

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Literature Text

The whirring of jet plane engines whiplash through the fuselage;
green, grey and blue blending into a streak of blur.
First time, alone, in this frigid coach seat;
I rather not be here at all.

This flight is the ticket to freedom,
away from the screaming and shouting,
the ignorance and intolerance.
The mother who would fuss and nag,
the father who was never really there;
She who would deny me what I truly want,
as my eyes gleamed with green at my peers;
he who would be there in spirit and never in body,
as I tried to achieve what she really dreamed.

This ticket is a flight to hell,
miserably watching as the skies turn black and the shades go down.
The vast unknown of dreams whose fulfilment now begins;
the unknown hall of some home away from home.
The freedom to be myself, for the very first time,
let loose off my shackles and chains.
I'm now free to fly, to take care of myself...

But yet I'm afraid,
afraid of what I cannot control;
Lost in the labyrinth of desired dreams never fulfilled;
hopes of better futures and better lives tossed aside.
I'm think I'm lost,
as lost as the new born toddler born into an unknown world,
crawling into the cradling arms of all he really knew: his mama and papa.
They are not here anymore.

The future: a black hole.
The present: a null void.
The past: a shameful secret.
Where can I run and hide?

I'm afraid mama. I'm afraid papa.
What am I to do?

The descent...
                                                                    has just begun.
I'm just feeling a little loss and moody (again)...

I don't know... I don't want to leave where I am now, but I want the future. But yet, I don't want the future... I just want to stay, but I know I can't.

But I know it would be too hard to leave.

It is so hard to take the plunge.
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