Subtitles on aeroplanes

I started thinking about how all I ever wanted to do was up and leave, skidaddle, scram. You know, just do like they do on the silver screen and start afresh.
The new gal in town; foreign, strange, striking with a soft gooey centre. All glossy eyed and skin illuminated with the joys of life, excitement with no fear. Epinephrine and oxytocin rushing and kissing and screaming through my system.

I began dreaming with no if’s or but’s, entire imaginary freedom.
No fucking boundaries or neigh sayer’s.

I wake up one morning in the hazy summer light with the air so much drier than I was used to. The pillows are strewn about the mattress in some kind of maddened fashion and there is a body sized trench amongst the ocean of fabric next to me. My ears are blocked and I could have sworn it was supposed to be wintertime in Australia.
I sit up with a pounding headache and stare at my feet. They seem shrunken, small as they are. I look at my hands and they seem kinder than before, the taper to my waist seems sweeter and the curve of my hips more feminine.
I’m in a queen sized bed with a dimpled, linen headboard when my bed is a single on a wooden frame. I’m in a sheet when it’s four degrees celsius outside and I haven’t any kind of heating in the house but this isn’t my bed and this isn’t my house, this is ludicrous.
It’s so bright and warmly lit in here when it’s a miserable, dreary day. Nothing but grey outside. I’m no moron, I checked the weather report sixteen times yesterday and it basically said it’s gonna be cold.
Wrapped in an oversized, tartan button-down I found on the floor I slink open the curtains to reveal gold and red and blue, slink them open and find an alien outlook. A new outlook. A new people with new accents who have to form new opinions on me and I find I am finally free.

I stopped dreaming right where my mind stood gazing up at an edwardian terrace, on the stoop of this lovelorn reverie. Stopped right where my bare soles met floorboards in that studio apartment, where I swung the windows open and the curtains billowed wistfully beside me.

Me, standing in my own imagination with everything I imagined about you standing right behind me.

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s