I find it somewhat strange... Now faced with the inescapable fact that Darryl Campbell is on the move yet again. Rota, Spain. This isn't just a backpacking trip to Europe, this time; but, this is where I will begin my official ascent to adulthood. Call me crazy, but at 19 years old, I think I have every right to be [at minimum] a tad bit afraid.
So, to take my mind off of some things and to put it on others, I recall my past. This comes to no surprise, as this is my common manner of achieving inner peace.
Some have their religious faith, some retreat to the often warm embrace of family or friends, still some simply live in their distresses... I have to find that sort of resolution that allows for easy sleeping and pleasant dreams.
This, all despite my growing insomnia. And so,
with the most precise brush I can find, I paint these fine lines.
I'm living a life many young men merely dream of. I have lived a life, thus far, that some old men would give their all for. I've recieved the praises of my peers, I've influenced those who will follow in my wake. Just so you know, I'm not intending on sounding arrogant, God forbid... but, all-in-all, I'm a success story. Some would argue otherwise, but I say their argument holds little validation.
Private Pilot
Air Traffic Controller
Sailor
Computer Guru
World Traveller
Rock Climber
Hopeless Romantic
Self-sustained
19 year old me...
Public speaking, me... Poetic, me... Apiring novelist, me... It shouldn't be hard, now, for you to understand why I have to take these moments to marinate.
Here I sit, Row 1 Window Seat of this Boeing 757,
with the cloud tops seemingly at my fingertips. The entire breadth of the world 'neath these wings... Cruising at an altitude only slightly lower than that of my hopes and dreams. I am afraid.
Earlier, a flight attendant brought me a flight dinner... A little plastic tray of vegetable pasta bake, roll, and brownie. Later, she brought me a beer and thanked me for my service. 19. Now, she stands by my aisle, offering this lonely 19 year old kid a bag of potato chips... Dirty Brand... Literally.
This makes me think. Life in itself is much like a long flight in coach. Somewhat uncomfortable, slightly annoying at times, but you're getting somewhere. That's the whole purpose. I've queried nearly every aspect of my life, to include my decision to join the military. Haunted, a novel of stories by Chuck Palanuik, states that
because we conciously make the decisions we make, nothing we do is wrong. It is always right, if for no other reason than the fact that we decided to do it, and did. The only way to be wrong would be to decide one thing, and do another; which, is also technically right, because nonetheless, we had to have decided to deviate from the original plan, in the first place...
So, this in mind, I'm ok with leaving; but inside, I feel as though I'm running away from something.
The plane begins its slow descent from altitude, and right on cue, so do my thoughts. I'm leaving you hanging, for the time being. Expect more, soon... I've got two years alone ahead of me...
Shit, I just need a fucking hug.
