Fear of flying

I’m in the airport, waiting for my flight, and i wish to tell you a little secret: I am seriously scared shit of flying. My palms get wet, soaking the pages of the book that I pretend to read, every time the plane takes off or lands. I try not to sleep, and when I do fall asleep, I panic every time the flight attendant wakes me up for refreshment. Air pockets bring me to the edge. Flying makes me think about life after death, and whether or not I would need a jacket in transition.

So, maybe to calm myself a little bit, I thought I’d just think about death head on, morbid thoughts be damned. If there’s life after death, I swear to visit all of my good friends and share with them personally my discovery. I won’t be the butterfly hovering about – that’s too gay and I am/was already gay – or that mysterious and surprising scent of flowers while you’re preparing to sleep. I will just lie next to you and whisper your name, your complete name to be precise, so that you’d know that it’s me and not a relative or a regular hada.

I want to be cremated. Don’t hold a wake, but a little solidarity dinner is fine. A film showing is good, too, since I really would like to watch Amelie again. Find that bastard who borrowed my VCD of Amelie and retrieve my copy and I promise I won’t visit you. I’ll just send you an SMS next Christmas just to remind you how much I miss you. All of my stuffs are to go to my family. Stacks of unused condoms in the drawer can no longer be used, not even as decors for the solidarity dinner, since they just remind me of how cold my previous nights were.

Ooppss. Time to board. Whatever happens I promise to finish this entry. See you all!