Day 1 - Air Canada Flight 548. Approximately 37,000 feet above the 49th parallel. Trying to imagine a new reality for myself.
One where I am me, only better or more interesting, or something like that. I've had weird luck (as usual) - my flight out of Vancouver was delayed, but if it hadn't been delayed, I would have missed check-in. Then the plane was half-empty - not lucky so much as lovely. This is officially the cheapest, most comfortable trans-continental flight I've ever taken. I have a good feeling about this trip.
I've written down my dream - why not, right? Half of what I write is strangely predictive, so why not try to write my own happy ending? Well, my happy beginning; it's up to me to make sure it has a shot at happening and that when it does, I don't mess it up. A tall order, but I've experienced so many bad kinds of insanity in life; why not let myself believe in all the good kinds too?
Like perfect families and true Love (with a capital L) and big breaks.
I'm kind of pathetic (or insane) to want what I want, to think it will make me happy, but it's worth at least trying. If I never try, I'll never know, and I'm sick of wondering. I am tired of asking 'what if'?
This is a 'what if' I can reasonably expect an answer to. This is a 'what if' that I can control (to a certain extent). This is a 'what if' that isn't just a philosophical daydream pondering the fleeting nature of life; a line of questioning that inevitably leads me down a spiral into mild depression to a place where there is no answer anyway.
They are gone. Dead. No amount of wondering what might have been will ever change what is.
But I'm still here and my future is not a series of what-might-have-beens, but an infinite spectrum of what-could-still-be. So the question is this: am I brave enough to find out if have a shot at some part of my fantasy-future?
This trip may be the answer. Or it may be the whole of my undoing. Only time will tell.