airports make me emotional

I don’t know what the fuck, but I got this sudden urge after dropping Paul off at security to sit at Burger King, to eat a bacon double cheeseburger and fries and a Coke. I have shit to do and everything about this burger and this Coke makes me furious, repulses me, and it doesn’t even taste good. But maybe I just want to be someone else for a few minutes – someone who does not throw herself into stressful situations, someone who eats at American fast food chains in foreign countries, someone who gives a shit that sportjackets are in right now.

I do not want to live in New York again, and this is making me deeply sad. I love New York and the big dreams and the things New Yorkers take on. But when it comes down to it I don’t mind waiting in line, I don’t get impatient, and all I prefer is to be in line with other people enjoying the anticipation and the company. I prefer to be in line with people who don’t notice what kind of shoes I’m wearing, and who would rather cook than eat out, and who could sleep in the airport if it was easier. People who would voluntarily help you move. These people do not live in New York.

I’m finished my burger. I feel gross. I guess I’m going to Croatia or wherever, and it will be lonely and scary and exciting, and that’s how I want it to be.