everything in transit
Airport lounge. The woman across from me has her socks off. Snoring.
Flight delayed by 2 hours, but at least the food and booze are free.
In this idle time I feel massively insecure about traveling while the shop is open. That I'm allowed to go and everyone else has to stay. I am aware this isn't completely rational. I don't think I've ever said no to a time off request. But as I sip this bottomless bowl of potato leek soup, I feel guilt.
I like to count my blessings often. Especially when there are so many moving parts--so many unlikely to sync up until they randomly do. So many little privileges add up to the privilege of sitting in an airport lounge. I'm grateful. I am lucky. I can never seem to let that be the end of it. Any and all happiness comes with a supersized side dish of guilt, embarrassment, and self loathing.
I deserve nice things. None of my ride has been free. I deserve nice things but something deep down tells me I don't.
Who knows.
These are not new feelings.
They'll come and go, I'll come and go, good luck will come and go, forever. Amen.















