Being Alone In Airports Makes Me Okay With Not Having You


“I guess that’s the beauty and tragedy of an airport. It could mean goodbye to your fears and hello to adventure, but also it could mean hello to a wine infused period of depression and goodbye to the object of your affection.”

Last time I was waiting to board a flight I was on the other side of the continent, alone. Feeling as if my heart had just been ripped out of my chest and then put inside a blender with the rest of everything I had in me. I was destroyed, to say the least.

He left, I was still here. But I wasn’t.

I wasn’t here nor there, I was nowhere to be found, I was gone, I was numb. I played everything through in my head, over and over again. And the clock ticked away, one, two, three, ten hours went by, and I just sat there and stared into the distance. Thinking, hoping, wishing, missing.

Once again, here I am at an airport in the middle of the night as I realize its been only about a month since that last encounter with the waiting game. I find myself getting lost in my thoughts as I sit here alone, struggling to grasp reality around me. I start thinking of everything; the past, that night, the now, this dawn, the future, whatever that will be. I think of how different things are now from what they were just a month ago.

I used to feel on top of the world, I used to wake up loving life, loving where I was, who I was and who I was surrounded with. Now I am crawling my way up to be able to even stand at all, and that top where I used to be is nowhere to be seen. But sitting here alone in the dark, in the middle of one day and the other, I feel some kind of strength, some kind of hope. I have plans, I have goals, and I am on a mission to get shit done! I have to.

I was on a wonderful high for those last few months, I felt so alive in that time, I don’t want to go back to the way things were. I became a whole new person, and I want to continue to be that version of myself, even when the circumstances around me don’t really help. I must create the circumstances then.

It feels good though. To know that this time around, as I wait for the plane, I am excited about what is waiting for me at the end of this flight, unlike the last time. I want to get there already, and start living my life, start working towards the life I want, the adventures I plan and the new highs that are yet to come.

Airports are weird like that, and that is why I can’t never love them or hate them. They bring so much, and they take so much, but at the end of the day the airport wait is whatever you make of it.

It once saw me break down for hours that seem to never end, and now it accompanies me as I try to stand my ground and build my ladder back up to get to that top.