"Stuck In The Friend-Zone Again and Again"

"It's Time To Leave"

I woke up with puffy eyes and pale cheeks at 4 a.m. to the sound of my alarm.

I groaned and got into the shower, before blow drying my hair and pulling it into a messy bun.

I dressed in a blush coloured tank top and regular jean shorts, with a light grey over sized knit cardigan. (See Pinterest Character Inspiration board)

I packed up the few things I had gotten out, and slid my sun glasses on my nose (real ones stowed in my bag), ready to go.

I dragged my bags downstairs to the front desk, where the man that Luke had talked to on my phone had "my car" ready.
My suitcases were loaded into the car and I was being driven away to the airport by 4:50.

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I checked my bags (excluding the duffel) and went through customs, before finally collapsing, exhausted, on one of the seats by my gate.

As I looked across the big space, I saw a young couple talking and laughing, two suitcases trailing behind them.

An uninvited tear slipped down my cheek, and I swiped it away before anyone could notice it through the clear lenses of my glasses.

I only waited for 20 minutes before they called for boarding, and I hurried to get in line before it got crazy.
A cheery looking woman checked my passport and ticket, concernedly asking if I was okay, probably because of my red eyes from crying so much.
I responded quickly that I was fine, ducking my head and brushing past her into the corridor that led to the plane.

Finding my seat was relatively easy, despite the harried travellers and little children running amuck.
I had the window seat, which was well, because even with really long flights I never used airplane bathrooms. Ever.
I put my bag at my feet, tucking it under the seat ahead of me like the annoying stewardesses who meant well constantly reminded everyone.
I put my earbuds in and popped a piece of gum in my mouth, not wanting to listen to the safety demonstration I had seen a million times, and stared out the window onto the runway.
As the plane began to move down the take off strip, I began to think that 22 hours alone with my thoughts was a really bad idea.

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I tried to occupy myself with the few physical books (not on my e-reader) that I had brought, but even my well-thumbed copy of Goblet of Fire couldn't distract me from my ever-growing thoughts.

Music didn't help in the slightest, as every song that came on reminded me of him, but I refused to silence the melodies, because I couldn't allow him to take anything else from me.

Drawing turned into pictures of crying girls and a mermaid swimming in an ocean of tears.

Writing turned out to be the most successful, because as my cherished notebook/binder was pulled out and ideas scrawled inside, the feelings poured out along with the tears.

The feelings turned into lyrics, which were formed into full-fledged songs, the swirl of ink letters smeared by a smatter of tear drops on every page.

The old couple beside me gave me many concerned and worried looks, but as I (blessedly) had my headphones in, they said nothing.

When song writing had lost its appeal, I pulled out my laptop, waving off the stewardess with an assurance that airplane mode was on, and selected a movie that I had downloaded on it before I left.
Desperate to see something sad, I picked The Fault In Our Stars.
As the opening credits rolled, the tears began.

I basically cried my way through the movie, then through Bridge to Terabithia, and Marley & Me.

When my meal came, I picked at it, not really hungry for a change.

Eventually I fell asleep to the soundtrack of Remembering Sunday by All Time Low, the sad song lulling me to sleep with a tear soaked face.

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I woke up at the 16 hour mark of my flight, around 10:30 pm, still tired despite having slept for over 8 hours.

Having missed dinner, I waited until a stewardess walked by and asked for something to eat.

She was really nice, maybe because it was her job, maybe because she had seen my crying earlier, but nonetheless brought me this plate thing that had chicken pasta with creamy sauce and some chocolate wafer cookie thingies that were really good.

The old lady beside me kept glancing in my direction as I ate, and when I had finished she finally spoke.

"Are you alright dear?" She asked, a crease between her eyebrows.
I nodded quickly. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" She asked. "You didn't look fine earlier. You looked very upset."
"I have a reason to," I thought.
I could feel the familiar burning feeling that came behind my eyes when I was trying not to cry so I spoke quickly. "Before I left I found out something really unpleasant so I'm still recovering I guess."

That was putting it lightly.

The crease between the lady's eyebrows deepened.
"Are you sure you're okay?" She asked.
A tear slipped out of my eye and I laughed tearily, swiping the tear away as I spoke.
"I'm not right now, but I will be," I told her with a small smile, putting my earbuds back in.

The lady gave me a sympathetic look every so often, and it was nice to know that people cared about me even if they didn't know me.

Thinking this, I couldn't help but remember that lots of people who did know me didn't care in the slightest about me, one person in particular sticking out in my mind.

I sighed as more tears slid down my cheeks and leaned my head against the window, hoping for sleep again.