Paper Airplanes

prologue

For every writer, the paper represents the ability of the author to express themselves. It is the instrument they use when they need to escape reality. When their thoughts take flight, writers jump onto their paper airplanes and explore the world. They fly to find ideas, discover inspiration, and escape life. 

I have only ever described myself using two words: wanderlust and words. They closely coincide with each other. I use my words to travel, but I have always wanted to use my travels to influence my words. 

I am sick of the mundane simplicity of the twenty-first-century version of serfdom. I am tired of wandering through life and knowing what is going to happen every single day. I hate that I am not truly living.

I want to wake up every morning without knowing what to expect will happen and without the expectations of other people leaning against me.

I want to live. Truly live. I want to love. Truly love. I want to be happy. Truly happy. 

"Can I have a scoop of vanilla ice cream with some caramel on top?" a voice crones. 

My eyes snap open. I was leaning against an ice cream machine, thinking overdramatic thoughts. 

"Sure!" I say. Externally, I offer a smile. Internally, I want to shove an ice cream cone in the customer's face. Not that she did anything wrong. I am sure she is a nice person. I am just not necessarily loving life right now, so I feel a bit angry. 

After preparing a waffle cone and drizzling it with caramel syrup, I offer another smile and say something positive. It is hard to mean what you say when you can't understand why you are saying it. 

I am feeling incredibly overdramatic! Generally, I am very sarcastic. And I love my sarcastic self. No, that was not sarcastic. However, I really am serious about what I am thinking.

When I hear the door shut, I let out a long breath. 

"You okay, girl?" Lane says. She is the sweetest boss anyone could imagine. She is in her mid-thirties with unkempt blonde hair and a smile that would make the cruelest hearts melt. 

My thoughts have been stuck in my head for years. I bottled them and stored them on the shelves of my mind. At this moment, all I want is to dust them off and rip off their caps. I want to tell her how I feel. I have feared the words for so long.

"I am tired of living this way," I whisper. I hardly feel as if I am actually telling someone. When emotions start, I can't stop them though. My thoughts come out like an avalanche. I can't find the right words, but I know exactly how I feel. Stressed, tired, exhausted, and wishing for something different. This is me.

"Living what way, hun?"

"Like I fear life. I have been taught to pick a job based on my income for fear of losing money. I have been taught to make decisions based on what is best for me. I have been taught that life should be lived carefully. I want to be careless. Not just once but for forever," I don't know who is speaking, but I can't be sure it is me. These are the thoughts I have felt since I was twelve, but I never imagined that I would actually say the words out loud.

"Your parents told you those things?" she says. It is a statement, but the way she turns her voice up at the end makes it a question. "Your parents want what is best for you."

"Is it really what is best for me? To be unhappy, unsatisfied, and discontent." 

"Maybe it isn't  what is best for you, but they believe it is." Lane clasps her hands together and looks down at the ground. "But, if I were you, I would fly away." 

She looks back up at me. A small smirk glows on her face. "Don't tell anyone I said that," she whispers, leaning close to me. 

The bell on the door rings and a woman enters, dragging two small children behind her. One is screaming loudly; his face is bright red. The other is laughing; her face is glowing with mischevious delight. The woman is visibly angry and exhausted.

"I will cut your shift a little short," Lane whispers. "Go."

And I leave. I leave behind the girl who made every choice out of fear. I leave behind the girl who wanted to travel. I leave behind the girl who wanted to write, but she could never find a way to say it. I say goodbye, knowing that I will never be seeing her again. Not all farewells are sad. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hi! First of all, thank you so much for reading this! I appreciate you so much! Also, I know that I have been gone for such a long time, but I am ready to write again. I am so excited to be back! For those of you who have read my writing before, thank you for coming back! For those of you who are new, welcome! I hope you will keep reading, and I promise that it will be worth it!

These pages are a paper airplane, so I hope you keep reading and join us on this adventure.