There is something about taking a long flight alone that makes me excited and thoughtful at the same time. As usual K dropped me to the airport, and usually while in the middle of one trip, we are always half way to planning the next one. Some alone, some together.
Trying to put his finger on why is long, solitary travel a must for everyone, he said “It allows you to be friends with yourself.” Now he is back at work and i’m figuring out in the ‘Leisure Zone’ of Frankfurt airport if i am already friends with myself?
I think I have such a love-hate relationship with myself that i’m in that post break up, let’s try to be friend-zone.
But this whole instead of being self obsessed, ‘itel’, right-out-of-self-help-book-in-love-with-self, wouldn’t it be cool if we were just friends? But all these concepts of being friends or in love or in hateful relationship with self will mean self and i are two different entities?
On both sides between this journey, there are people to meet, places to see and still why does the time spent between starting from somewhere and reaching somewhere has a value of its own? Is it because this could be the time that makes me a different person?
Bah! Look what a long solitary flight can do to your mind…