The Naive Urban

Chapter 2: Process to Blooming

I made my way to the John F. Kennedy Airport at Queens. I'm shaking nervously, to think that someone like me, who thought to herself how she wanted to fantasize all day and all night, not paying attention to her Algebra and Geometry classes back in high school, was actually making something happen. Usually, I'm afraid or shy to do certain things, which is why I've been called a seed my whole life. The truth is, I WAS a seed, waiting to bloom into something beautiful, something unique. I would always stay up late at night in my bedroom as a child drawing and sketching my fantasies and dreams. When I was living in Albany with my mother, she said me one Saturday night;
"Sweetie, you're like a drop of sunshine from heaven. You made my life so bright, so bright from all the narrow and evil spirits of negativity. I'm happy to say I'm confident that you'll be something special to this world. To my world."

I cherished my mother's opinion, and after that, I've been confident myself.

My boarding time was at 3am, and by the time we land on the runway of Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris, it would be late in the morning. I sat down in the waiting area, and I was bored out of my mind. I was thinking about going to a nearby Starbucks stand in the airport's café area, but I didn't want to leave because I was paranoid that I'll miss any information from the speaker, or that I'll somehow miss my flight. I can be a "little" over dramatic at times, but I'm still a seed, and I don't know what's ahead of me. My mother would tell me that it's okay to question humanity, but not a loud. I questioned myself as to how someone became the flower they bloomed into, and what kind of obstacles they went through in their lives. Every one had a story, and they'll all be interesting. I was the kind of person that would look at a person's outfit or expensive belongings and think, "I wonder if they went through something to get all that, or maybe they had a loved one who gave them those items..."

You see these cosmopolitans and their know-it-all information who tell you how many times they've been to this country or that country, who had probably seen the Great Wall of China more than once, or tasted cultural food almost everywhere they went. I would pretend I didn't care, by resting my elbow on the table while holding my chin, or taking a sip of my coffee while looking at a homeless person on the street, looking miserable. It was fascinating to hear their stories, but I kept looking at the homeless person...

Honestly, I wanted to become the person that's been to many places in their life span. I wanted to become the best flower around, and I wanted to become the strongest flower that would survive the droughts and floods ahead of me.

I'm prepared for it all.