A place to write

Thus the beginning of Psalm 23:2 was achieved through greed (It just feels more official quoting an ancient source, not that I adhere to it or anything)

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before- Somewhere along the way, life caught up with me.

I’m backed into a corner, unable to breathe, little room to think. Expectations of a future I’m unsure of are beginning to press down around me, causing the sweat to take shape on my forehead in tiny, heavy beads. It’s all weighing down on me now, and if my heart doesn’t stop beating so quickly, I swear I’ll rip it out before it has the opportunity to flat line. I find that some of the more morbid thoughts desire, no, beg for someone to give me that courtesy. ‘Kill me now, and let the stress feed upon another unsuspecting victim.’ If only it were that simple. If only.

My dreams came true, and to be honest with you, I’m only feeling one thing. Fear.

I’m terrified.

Someone wasn’t being an absolute smart ass when they said to be careful what you wish for, it just might come true. I wish I could give that son of a bitch a medal, he deserves it. Maybe a parade would be better, yeah, a parade and a medal. Yeah, that sounds right, a celebration for the cheekiest bastard to add a few words to a clichéd phrase. A big goddamn hero he is, and he deserves every single bit of praise.

In times like these, I think that humor helps. If I had a sense of humor, I’d be ok. I don’t, and I’m not.

Things just came together too soon. I didn’t expect the road I was walking on to end so abruptly. I was hoping for some finish line. You know, one of those things out in the distance with a cheering crowd full of friendly and familiar faces. I dreamed of that taut, fragile ribbon that the winner of the race runs through in victory. I thought I’d be like some Olympic athlete finishing in glory and breaking the ribbon. What I thought was wrong. I couldn’t see a finish line in the distance, and there wasn’t a chance to prepare myself to get there. Instead, the finish line was literally that, a line, on the ground, drawn lazily with one long swipe of white chalk. Glamorous, right? Well, I thought so.

It all happened so fast. I never really had an opportunity to really enjoy what was flying by. I didn’t even realize that I was wrapped up in such a fleeting experience. There’s another saying, ‘don’t give into astonishment’, I don’t know, something like that. The exact quote isn’t important, only the spirit of the thought. Well, yeah, I like most, gave into astonishment. I got lost within the experience, and wasn’t truly able to take the time to appreciate each individual moment. At least, that’s what I feel now.

Wait, that’s not right. I can remember sitting on my ass a few years ago and thinking, ‘This isn’t going to last forever, but I’m glad I can enjoy it while it does.’

Well, at least I can take pride in knowing I have the gift of foresight; and therein lies the problem, foresight. I know what the future is going to be like. It’s not going to be a cake walk.

Does $3o,ooo in loans sound like a sound financial plan? Let’s make that $3o,ooo a year, for three years. Sounding better? It gets better. Couple that with a profession that is oversaturated and requires an average of 65 to 70 hours a week to be mediocre in. To add the sprinkles on top, at least an $85k salary would be required to break even. I hate that phrase, ‘break even’, why don’t they just say ‘settle’. It sounds less intimidating and it may be more accurate within context. I don’t know, just food for thought.

So, here I am, looking down the barrel of a gun. It takes an estimated ten years for the thumb to begin pulling back on the hammer, another five for the round to begin to enter the chamber, and about two or three to hear that gut wrenching click that informs a person that things may be getting a little hairy.

Anyone want to trade situations? Yeah? Well how about this, I’m about to enter law school. I can imagine how many curious faces jerked backwards a little at the mention of the beast. Vile, I know.

Yes, I am about to enter law school and I am terrified. Absolutely terrified. I didn’t expect to get this far. I honestly thought the world would explode or aliens would come to rain cosmic justice upon the human race by this point.

Law school was a contingency plan, a back up if you will. I thought, ‘there is no way we’ll be here in x amount of years. I’ll just do well in school and put in a little effort for the hell of it.’

Sometimes, all the time, I really wish that the aliens did come. Maybe then I could be hiding underground, hungry and hopeless, waiting until I died of exposure or the death by plasma weapon. The grim, abnormal thoughts have a soothing effect. Trust me, I’m an expert at this kind of stuff.

With all the complaining, I don’t think I’ve had the opportunity to properly characterize the problem. In all seriousness, I’m terrified. Have I made that much clear? I’m absolutely, positively, 100%, grade A, home grown, terrified. Sorry, that was a little overdone.

The problem stems from time. I’ve run out of it. I’m 21 and I’ve literally run out of time. No one, except attorneys and law students understand this fact. Time’s up.

I won’t miss the parties, the drunken nights of bad decisions, or the random hookups. No, what I’m really going to miss is the free time I was able to spend by myself. Those introspective moments of peace that could last for hours at a time, those moments are slipping from my grasp.

I’m 21 and my life is about to be consumed by some great leviathan many called life. I call it unnecessary stress, but I’m just 21, what the hell do I know. Well, I do know that there are plenty of young men roaming around with relative freedom until their early to mid thirties. I won’t have that luxury, as my ball and chain will be my profession, my profession that is soon to begin.

If the stress doesn’t kill me, maybe the lack of fun will. Between law school, the firm, and an early anxiety induced death, where am I going to find the time to watch a nice movie? I know, after work, twice I’ll probably be able to catch a film on some fancy futuristic display. I’ll probably fall asleep, both times, somewhere around the middle. Shit. What am I doing?

I’m fucking terrified. We shouldn’t be living this way. Man wasn’t designed to do this and then die. My awareness doesn’t exist just to stroke out from overwork.

‘Something has to change.’ Someone needs to handover that medal I was talking about earlier, because I’m definitely the first guy to come up with that thought.

I’ll figure something out, but first, first I have to think about how these last four years flew by without me realizing it. This could happen to the next 40 years, and I’m not too keen on that idea. I’d like to experience each moment, and live without regret. No better way to ensure a proper future comes about than to look over the mistakes of the past.

Now, I wonder, what was it that made me wonder? Where did I get caught up within it all to the extent that I forgot that it was moving so quickly?

                Looking out my window I can see the clouds blanket the sky below. I smile, making note of whimsical thoughts. I can see myself floating, head resting upon fluffy white pillows. I can imagine looking up and staring into the deepness of the heavens. The blue probably goes on forever in that place.

                It’s at that moment when she sits down next to me, startling me from my day dreams.

                “Oh, sorry,” I say, removing my arm from the center armrest, the only physical barrier between us.

She smiles, and my heart feels as if it begins to beat for the first time.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s yours ,” she says casually, no hint of reservation in her voice.

“Thanks,” I respond, returning her smile.

I find myself peering through the window once more, as the clouds begin to take on a pinkish hue against the setting sun. I can’t wipe the smile off of my face as I watch the colors twirl upon the soft evening sky.

“What’s your name,” her voice whispers, traveling in my ear and down my spine. I feel my back wanting to arch as the hairs of my body stand.

“You first,” I say as coolly as possible, looking from the darkening sky into her milky jade eyes.

If her smile started my heart, then her eyes surely stopped it.

“Miranda,” she almost purrs, leaning towards me but staying just within that sweet spot that doesn’t violate personal space. She knows just how to pluck at my strings. “You could call me Miri, but I can’t let a perfect stranger go about calling me by a nickname, now can I?”

“No I don’t suppose so,” I say with a slight laugh. “It’s Patrick by the way.”

“Mind if I call you Pat,” she asks with a wink.

“Not a problem, Miri,” I wink back.

This causes her to laugh and place her hand upon the center armrest, directly on my own.

I can’t help but to reveal a toothy grin as I’m captivated by her pouty lips and murky eyes. It’s almost too much to bear.

“So, is it always going to be an airplane,” her voice drops into a more serious tone as she asks, not quite losing its playful jab.

I sigh and look out the window, as I feel her fingers interlace into my own. She’s warm, just as the lights of the city in the illuminated darkness below.

“It’s beautiful you know,” I respond.

“Yeah, it always is,” She says with her face side by side with mine looking out of the small window into the world below.

My face grows warm from her brass disregard of my zone of comfort.

“Stop that,” I say as a playfully shoo her away.

Her smile has faded into an expectant gaze as she speaks, “You going to try to answer my question, or are you going to make this one of those unanswered mysteries of life?”

I laugh a bit, and then look into her eyes once more. I can’t feel my heart’s pulsating throbs in my chest any longer.

“It’s easier this way,” I say, with a bit of shame in my voice.

“How so,” she quickly asks, eager to understand where I’m coming from.

There is a light sensation of turbulence that ripples through the plane.

“Promise not to laugh,” I ask with a weak smile.

Her grip on my hand loosens as she rolls her eyes in amusement, “When have I ever been known to make prom-”

“Miri,” I say softly, staying her words. My hand gently tightens its grip on hers.

“I promise,” she says, her fingers pressing into my hand, returning the tender gesture.

I sigh as the heaviness in my chest urges to be released, “Here, on this plane, I can talk to you. Face to face, no pressure. I can…I can become hypnotized by your smile, and I can grow lost within your eyes. It’s just you, and me, nothing else. It’s bliss…” I trial off.

“Well don’t stop now, lover boy,” She says, biting her plump lower lip.

There’s another jolt of turbulence that shakes the plane. This one reverberates through the bone.

I close my eyes and continue, “Here, on this plane, I can talk to you. It’s just me and you for however long it needs to be, no distractions. I’m free to fall in love with you a thousand times over, and then when it’s all over I can be sure that the plane will land. I can be sure the plane will land, and we’ll get our carry on’s and file out of the designated exit. After that, we’ll make idle conversation at the baggage claim while pretending that nothing too serious happened. After that, I can wait with you until your taxi arrives and give you a parting hug, maybe a light kiss if you’ll allow it. Then, then I can watch you ride away into the distance, turn on my heel and forget that I ever met you. This plane, this plane makes everything so much easier to forget.”

I feel the light touch of a hand upon my cheek. I open my eyes to see a sad smile resting upon her face. Her eyes are concerned. I can see her struggling to mask how she truly feels.

“Is that it,” she asks. “Is that the reason why it’s always a plane?”

“Yeah,” I say, placing my free hand over hers that lies on my cheek.

Turbulence shakes the flight once more.

We share a small silence.

Miri produces an awkward laugh, “You know, I’d like to think of it a bit differently.”

“Oh,” I say, still lost in the difficult truth I allowed to flow from my mouth.

“Yeah,” she says, “I’d like to think that this would be what it’s like the first time we actually meet.”

I can feel my heart beat once more.

“I’d like to think,” she pauses, “I’d like to think that we meet, just like this. I’d like to think that we meet and we just can’t stop talking, and we lose track of time. I’d like to think that we become so engrossed within one another that the time just flies by and before we know it, the plane has landed. I’d like to think that we don’t pretend it’s over by the time we get to the baggage claim.”

She laughs, sobs, or does both, compelling me to grasp her hand tighter as she continues to speak, “ By the time we’re waiting for the taxi that takes me away into the distance, we’re silent. And we’re not silent because we know that this was some single serving experience and that it’s all over, but we’re silent because we know it doesn’t end there. When the cab comes, not only do I enter, but you enter as well. And when the driver with the funny accent asks us where we’re going, we answer with ‘it doesn’t matter’ or some equally cheesy shit you’d find in a bargain bin romance novel.”

I can’t help but give a genuine smile, because despite how mushy and childish it sounds, I know that I want it too.

“I know…” I say, trailing off as I stare into her glassy, wavering eyes.

“I wish this was something more than some semi-lucid re-occurring dream. I wish that one day that this could be reality, but, I think we both know…”she pauses

The plane shakes violently, never seeming to find proper balance.

“Yeah,” I solemnly say, acknowledging her unspoken words.

At this point, I can’t tell if it is the tears within my eyes or some other obstruction I can’t readily place. But, my vision is growing grainy, and I can barely make out her face.

Her voice is a distorted whisper, “I’d like to think that one day, this will happen, and I’ll wake up and find that you’re real. I’d like to wake up next to you. One day I’d like to say…”

I can no longer make out her words or discern any physical characteristics of the plane’s cabin. There is only a hazy outline of her eyes and moving lips. I can just barely read: One day I’d like to say I love you.

I find myself opening my eyes to the morning light. My alarm blares noisily on my night stand. I don’t bother reaching for it, not right now. I curl up within the warmth of my covers and close my eyes as I try to escape the cold feeling that creeps across my skin. I sigh, barely remembering the dream. Whatever it was, it upset me, again. However, the words that come out of my mouth make an impression in my mind. I find myself whispering, “Yeah, I’d like to say I love you too.”