20 02 13 // 11:06 AM
Heidiho, my precious diary. Am at the airport now; my second home. When did we start to frequent this place, you and I? Probably after the separation with my clique. When the solitude was kicking in.
I remember the day I discovered a Dunkin Donuts on the "outside" side of the airport. I hadn't written in you much, but I was writing a letter. A letter to my murderers; the younger twin, and myself.
I was waiting for mother to finish work, and had bought Asian Geographic. I felt so independent, I don't know why; being in the airport made me feel like a traveler, someone who never stops moving forward. Someone who's always looking for new places to explore.
In reality, I'm the human who is stuck at the airport, who's bought tickets to the other side of the world but never used them, instead wanders around the terminals clutching the tickets and passport in hand.
I am that measly human, with the intention of moving forward but never having the courage to fulfill it. The measly human who is forever stuck at the airport.
This place. This view, of my legs spread out in front of me against the glass of the windowpane, aeroplanes across the sky and road, and you on my lap,... It reminds me so much of my solitude.
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