When an article perfectly captures your life..
When there was no chance I could get close to it, everything seemed easy to love. During that time when I lived in airports, I was bright and irresponsible, fun to be around, terrible to get close to. I made grand, stupid, impulsive decisions and never worried that I would have to account for them because I knew I could leave. Without an address, a routine, a set return of the day to the same places and people—the growing familiarity that accumulates when one makes a home—I never had to stay to watch my choices drop into consequences. I skimmed over the surface of love and permanence, connection and loyalty. I knew I had an escape hatch, that I had not just the ability but the obligation to run away—it was quite literally my job. I left projects unfinished and ghosted people as I allowed the narcotic rush of another plane’s takeoff to drown out the nagging voices that might have pulled me back to the things I had promised and then forgotten. If we are the things we accumulate—our loves, our fears, our habits—then getting on a plane divests us of everything to which we are accountable