Homecoming Weekend.

I wish I could stay right here, I thought to myself while flying somewhere over Modesto last night, on my return flight home from the holiday weekend.
Suspended.

Suspended in between the complexities of my hometown and the complexities of what I am returning home to.

I used to have the same sensation sometimes driving home when I lived with my Ex, when things were really bad. Right around our breakup and right around the halfway mark on my commute home on PCH, I would pray that even though I was still stepping on the gas pedal that the car would just stay suspended in motion; driving but never really reaching it's destination. Slow motion.

In that plane last night, after an exhausting trip home I realized what I was going home to - a job ending, the unknown, the unfamiliar and a boyfriend that I was pretty Goddamn mad at; a boyfriend I was going to break up with.

Couldn't I just stay suspended, in air, just for a little bit longer? I prayed.

Funny thing, I've always been afraid of flying; the take off has always sent me over the edge. I'm the stranger that grabs ahold of whom ever's hand is next to her.

But this trip, on the way there & the way back I was sans nerves; I was saying to myself over and over,

Nothing that you worry about is ever as bad as it seems.
Nothing that you worry about is ever as bad as it seems.

Nothing that you worry about is ever as bad as it seems.

But high in the air last night, with the dreaded Arika sitting only rows behind me, like I was in some sort of weird dream - I most certainly was not thinking nothing is as bad as it seems.
I was wishing for time to slow, slow slow slow to a crawl.
For time to stop.
Stop altogether.