I love flying. There’s not much about it I don’t like, despite the large conflicts towards that point. But airports are a place of transition; people moving from one place to another almost passively. In airports, our autonomy is taken away from us. We move through security surrounded by TSA signs that explain our personal belongings are subject to search at any time. We remove our shoes and step through scanners. Everything is expensive because we’re trapped essentially, often in the middle of some swamp on the city outskirts. Someone else tells us which line to stand in, when to board and when to exit. We don’t move ourselves place to place— the pilot does that.
A profound transitioning that each and every person performs passively.
But I find something comfortable in the vaguely gross airplane capsule. The safety of being in an enclosed space. More than anything, however, I just love flying. I’ve always harbored dreams where I have wings. Human love to love things we shouldn’t. Men weren’t born to fly but we made it happen anyway.
We transitioned from crawling things to walking beings to flying people with time.
Now is a time where my life is in transition. I move from one school to another to follow my passions and dreams; the rug of financial stability has been pulled out from under my family in the matter of weeks; I am met at the intersection of who I am and who I want to be. These are my personal transitions, but my country faces larger ones.
I love my country, my home. I do, despite it’s failings, contradictions, and demons. Home is always something I associate with positivity. But we have a decisive political campaign that has made me want to tear my hair out for months now and are faced with unimaginable tragedy again and again and again. Orlando is something that struct so close to home, when my own sister, my wonderful sister who I could not live without, could have easily been a victim. Yet my first reaction was… nothing. An acceptance that has gradually changed to something more. Anger is something that comes slowly to me, but today I am angry. These abstract thoughts come easily.
I would like to fly away, I think. Go somewhere else, maybe to someplace where things are simpler and better, although where that is I cannot say. Or maybe I will fly off into the blue sky like a modern Icarus. Or maybe I will do nothing.