35,000 ft. was pretty high.
And the whole ordeal would have been a lot easier if I'd have been that high too.
That plane was dire.
Full of 'wise' guys, talking about their 'grand' lives.
What a phoney word. Nothing's grand.
The journey made me think of that time you declared me a patient soul. I'm sure you wouldn't have said the same if you'd seen me then.
I didn't feel patient. And I didn't feel 'grand' like my company.
I felt like a phoney.
I listened to every conversation for that torturous hour and twenty minutes.
And I sought a little bit of you in every one.
That riled me up too. I hate you for that.
I guess there was a void.
That seems to be the only way to explain the mess we became.
Vacant. Empty. Forceless. Sterile. Blank.
All those words. And 'void' was the only one that really fit.
We did manage to fill it with a few things.
Pride. A sprinkling of ego. Confusion. Remorse.
And a plane, I suppose.
Visiting you that day was stupid. You weren't you and I was someone else entirely.
We absorbed all those bogus feelings and sat in silence - the loudest silence.
It was so goddam consuming that I couldn't hear the goddam tv - you put that stupid show on, you were always doing that. I hated you for that.
I wish we'd both swallowed our pride that day; more so, I wish I had.
It was a rare occasion that either of us owned up to our shitty actions. Damn, it was a real treat if we did.
That's where the void began. I'm sure of it. We both saw it. I'm sure of that, too.
The foolish thing is, when you did fully digest your pride, I couldn't comprehend it. I couldn't get a grip on it.
And I regret forgiving you. It was fear that prompted forgiveness.
I've been mourning us since then.
Since that stupid day.
And I think I'd been mourning long before it came to a natural end.
I'm pretty sure you were too.
Once again, we were both too full of pride and cowardice to admit it. I hope we can at least agree on that.
That's where the silence became too loud. Too loud to hear the goddam tv.
And that's how it grew. The notorious void.
And boy, did it grow.
This is my closure. I hope it can be yours, too. I won't be enduring any more dire plane journeys, with only a bunch of fools for company. And neither will you.
This letter will be a crumpled heap on the floor by tomorrow morning - much like me.
All my pride,