15 more days and i will be on that plane. don’t you get that feeling, when you’re on a plane, that everything you thought was important is suddenly so insignificant? the people that surround you are complete strangers and yet you’re less afraid to die with them than to die looking upon a friendly face. the higher you climb the less visible are your prospects. there’s no guilt, there’s no anger, there’s no regret - just a little peephole where you can watch the familiar melt away. and then monotony, as you overcome the cloud cover. gentle rocking, rippling shadow on voluptuous cotton. even the ding of the seat belt light is a sweet calming note from a lullaby your mother used to sing. it’s perfect - you are absolutely no where. no one can touch you. you are nothing and it feels just. 15 more days and i will be on that plane.