Panic attack at Terminal 41.
I can’t breathe. Or, rather; I feel like I can’t breathe because I would have already lost consciousness. That fact is indifferent to me though. I cried for about three hours straight on the flight from LAX. I’m not ready to leave here. Warm tears pool at the bottom of my mask. The woman next to me politely pretends not to notice. I am crying because I feel like I don’t fit in this world. My happiness is always external. It is at the mercy of whatever is around me. I feel my heart beating and I start wishing the plane would just crash. I am unable to make myself happy. I am unable to move on. I am simply unable. I finally arrive at the Dallas airport. Rushing to the lavatory; I call my mother. Who will I call instead when my mother dies? There is no one else. She tells me to change my flight. I don’t want to have to pay extra. She yells, “I WILL PAY THE DIFFERENCE!” I change my flight and smoke a cigarette in the designated area. My brother picks me up in his new Tesla. I wonder if I will ever amount to anything. All the pretty things I could have been are slipping away from me with each passing day. I am alone again.
I know I will wish the same wish tomorrow.
