all grown up

(and then there were four)

ambivalence

Going home. Is it really like this for everyone?

My heart skips two beats at a time. My stomach's confused about what it ought to do: it keeps churning even if it shouldn't. My feet are heavy, almost as if they would rather stay where they're at. My hands are trembling, my palms sweaty. My thoughts never been as swirling. Like a mixture of fruits in a blender prepared for a smoothie, you can never tell which fruit is which.

Some thoughts would want to make me cry. Some make me dread the inevitable touchdown and even make me wish that I die right here and now, here, in the presence of tranquil clouds unmindful of my existence. It is but one part of my life after all. As Chris Gardner had done in the pursuit of his own "happyness", maybe I could name this part of my life "stupidity", but nevertheless rise up from such state and continue my own pursuit, hoping that eventually, I would arrive at the end victorious. But walking this road of uncertainty is as hard as I could have ever asked for. I have reached the dead ends. The only way to go to the other side is to climb this tall and sturdy wall in front of me, with nothing but my heavy feet and trembling, sweaty hands for weapons.

But then I would remember Santiago who never stopped until he reached his Pyramids, which would again give some kind of hope. Maybe, just maybe, if I meet a gypsie, and a king, and an alchemist, they would show me the way to climb the wall, and point out the weapons that I have all along.

But for now, I am left with this turmoil. A battle within. While the plane starts to descend.