Austin Cowler, My Story

II

So seventh grade. It all went to shit right before spring break, so right around mid-March. I was about to leave the state for vacation, you know, like most people do on spring break. I was about to pack what I thought was important into a small bag, set that bag above my head as I flew threw the sky in a giant tin can and eventually end up elsewhere. Anyway, that's where my story begins, or at the very least the amount of it I can manage to describe. Packing my bag, preparing to fly 2,000 miles but somehow remain sitting still, never having to move a muscle. You see, strangely enough, flying was the easiest part, and the hardest was simply thinking about it. I was about to take a vacation, a break if you may, but I strangely enough never felt so involved in my life as I did on this vacation. This vacation was the end of my old story, or maybe just an older part of my story, and the beginning of the one I believe I am living today.

I was packing my bag, a small black suitcase with wheels on one end and a handle on the other. I grabbed my chess board and set it on the bottom, grabbed clothes (sweatpants, jeans, tees, a jacket, and a couple flannels), and piled those up on top of the chess board. I grabbed a couple books to read on the plane, and then I pulled random shit out of the bathroom and stuffed them in the side pocket. I grabbed my bag, gave my room one last good look, and dragged it out of my room, off to adventure.

My family and I headed out the door and we locked our door for the last time for two weeks. We all loaded the trunk and crammed into our tiny little piss yellow Lexus. We drove the dreadful forty minutes to the airport playing "I spy" and talking about what we were gonna do in Colorado. I honestly didn't care what we did, as long as I got out of that fucking car.

We dropped off our piss Lexus at an airport car lot and rode the tiny shuttle with twenty others to the airport. when we got there, we were greeted by a massive fucking line, followed by another massive line, which leads to security, also known as an hour and a half of bullshit. after that we had overpriced airport food and sat bored as hell for a couple of hours.

eventually we heard the airport speakers say "Flight *** to Denver, Colorado now boarding". we grabbed our bags, loaded onto the flying tin can, and off we went. four and a half hours of chess, sketching, and power naps. We eventually landed in Colorado and there I was, In another tiny car driving another hour and a half to my grandparents place in the Springs.

And there I was, finally at my haven of vacation. And then it started, you know, The thinking? Cause trust me, when you have two weeks in the back room of a small home on a mountain plateau in Colorado, you've got a lot of time to yourself. A lot of time to think about things, you know, like your future, your place in the world, your sexuality, etc.

Anyway, there I was, sitting in their tiny guest bed, thinking about life. I thought about a lot, realized a lot, but I didn't do much about it... yet. Those two weeks changed my life forever, or not, because in reality I was always who I realized I was, that time alone just really helped me to realize that. So there I was thinking, and thinking, and thinking, about everything that I could possibly be, everything that's possible because of me.