The two hours I spent waiting to board the plane to Dubai could not have passed any slower. I sat in a clouded room with a cigarette in my hand as my eyes were glued to what was happening outside the glass pane. I had a million ideas going in and out of my head like thousands of bees swarming around their hive. I felt lost and confused yet I knew exactly what to do. I just didn’t have the heart to do it. It ached me to be in this situation but even more when I thought of the unknown. I had been feeding this fear for over a year and now it had grown so strong that it embodied my soul and everything I believed in so deeply.
Just the thought of fighting it scared me.
I was craving for an exit sign, just a slightly open door, something I could hang on to, to set myself free.I couldn’t find that light but yet I was so desperate to find it. I stared up at the bright yellow lights hung from the ceiling. I’m so pathetic, I whispered to myself. Was I looking at an actual light bulb? Really?!
I should head back to the gate, I thought, but I really don’t want to. The knot in my stomach tightened just thinking of what was to come. My instinct was trying to tell me something and I just wanted to ignore it. I wanted it to shut up.
Perhaps these thoughts would disintegrate and vanish into the ether. Who was I kidding? I stood up and as I walked out of the smoking room they just grew with power.
He looked at me from far and signaled it was time to go.
As we walked out and on to the runway I could hear my carry on dragging on the cold cement causing a rumble that I could feel in every vein in my body. We approached the staircase that was comfortably laying on the plane. Comfort, I thought, what a sadistic state.
I took the first step up the stairs along with a deep breath.
I sighed. It hurt.
This was it. This is all it ever came down to.
And once we land, it will only get worse. But I knew it would.
It would blow over. It had to. It needed to. Maybe I wanted it to because I couldn’t hang on to this thin thread anymore.
I couldn’t even look at his face. I no longer wanted to.
Just as I reached the top of the staircase I realized that this was the flight that, although we both were taking, was going to fly us to a known destination but an unknown fate.
I placed my suitcase in the overhead compartment carefully like the flight attendant requested and avoided any sort of contact with him as I took my seat.
I never cared about what was happening outside an airplane. I always booked the aisle seat.
This time though I desperately wanted to look the other way. Far away.
As I turned my head towards the runway, I saw it there. The light that I was looking for. An airplane that belonged to an airline that doesn’t reside in the Middle East. It was resting in the distance with it’s beautiful gleaming lights, ready to take her passengers somewhere far away.
One day you’ll help me run away, I thought.
This isn’t a guide of how to make it through Valentines Day if you’re single or a list of things you can buy your other half. Because if you’re single and sad about this day, it shall pass and if you’re with someone, it will pass as well.
She took a walk down memory lane hoping to find the answers she was looking for. She was hesitant at first, scared of an unforgiving thought or perhaps stepping into quick sand that will only transport her to the place she ran away from.
She’s not a good runner, never really was. Even when she tried her hardest to run she would fall even deeper.
She watched as the days passed her by as she sat still waiting for him to come around. She rose up out of her throne hoping he would see her more clearly. She spoke out, calling for him to no reply. She shouted, whispered and cried. But he did not hear. He did not see. He did not feel.
Whenever she would get the courage to leave he would be standing at the other end of the door asking her to stay. For another chance at happiness. For another chance to prove himself. For a chance at glory.
She was a woman of pride, she told him. She was a woman of strength. And god knows she was a woman of dignity.
Those days are gone, she thought..
She began to reflect his image. She no longer knew how to walk or where to begin. She lost the voice she once held so dear. She led a life orchestrated by somebody else’s.
forgave the sins of this man.
loved with every trembling vein in her body.
would’ve sold her soul for patience.
And lost herself to find him.
It was her choice and she did it, blinded by his words, his charm and his ever lasting echoes of his ‘forgive me’s’
Why this? she asked
Why now? she whispered
Why him? she questioned
It’s time, she insisted. She knew that, in order to start over, she had to dust the cobwebs away.
She no longer depended on time to cure the wounds that are longing to heal.
Time will only help her forget the details of every god forsaken moment she spent collecting the pieces of her broken soul.
It’s time, she knew, for her to seal the broken door with the crimson red candle.
It’s time, she whispered, to say goodbye.
“You are my muse” he said.
“I shouldn’t believe it” she thought.
She has always been fascinated with the term. Being a muse, that is. Only she’d never met a man who would bestow that title on her.
For days she tried to resist every word that his drawn lips would say. She knew that eventually he would let her go. After all, once his inspiration runs out, he will have to move on to someone else. She would no longer be needed nor wanted.
She sat in the corner watching him engrave his delicate words on his notepad. She became lost in the beauty of the ink drops on the pages. How he would tear down every emotion to create each character that would rule his book. He would glance at her silhouette in the dark as to draw inspiration for the heroine who is about to run away in the next scene. She could see the pain in his eyes, like he was writing an inevitable ending to a story he wished would end happily.
He called it a writer’s curse.
The longer he wrote, the more she thought about her next move. She watched as he delicately unfolded his notepad, page by page. Her life as a muse was slowly diminishing as if mimicking his unwritten story.
Now that the scene is coming to an end, would she have to run away like her character would in his book?
Should she disappear into the ether without saying goodbye?
She will never know.
Just like he created her with his graceful words, he had the power to destroy her with them.