the wanderer

Five months.

That's how long I've been gone.

It could have been a lifetime.

I've spent the last 24 hours in airports and airplanes, drifting in and out of a restless sleep. It's all a blur now, like some drug-induced haze, except the only thing I am on is pain. I've had to say goodbye so many times in the past few weeks that I am no longer capable of feeling anything except for that dull ache of a broken heart.

What bothered me most was I didn't know if I was going home, or leaving home.

In my brief states of consciousness, I could not even concentrate long enough to finish a page of the novel I had brought, or listen to the inflight radio before the music turned to garish noises pounding in my head. I could only stare out the windows, watching clouds roll by and icecaps floating on a boundless sea.

Then I saw myself, slipping away.

the day is breaking and time is taking
the love we're making away
this life can only leave us lonely
there's no tommorow,
just another little hole in her heart
- another little hole, aqualung