i am on a plane to berlin.

it is 2:09 am. it is also 10:09 am, at least where i am going first, which is london. it is 11:09 in berlin. now, i suppose, there is no time. i am in some nebulous frame of existence that is defined by the metal casings of this plane. i go to sleep when they close the windows and turn out the lights, even though it is still daylight. i awake when there is coffee and yogurt in front of me, even though it is only 2 am. i think about how all of life is merely perception, just the act of convincing our brains that something is true and acting accordingly. 

i believe it is morning now. 

i suppose it is morning. it is morning in many places. it is closing time in san francisco, but that is irrelevant now. san francisco is not the only place in the world.

that is the reason i am on this plane. to learn that san francisco is not the only place in the world. i tend to think that the existence of various places and people is contingent upon my proximity to them, that they only exist while i am near. i remember the first time i saw lindsay's high school yearbook. and i sobbed. because this person i loved had existed before me. not just existed, but existed entirely, had a whole life, without me. and it confused me. to know she was even capable of it. i suppose the beauty of life is that we are not reliant on any one person or thing. these past few weeks have certainly assured me of this. even those i feel inextricably linked to can hurt me, be distant from me, and i have relished the painful discovery that i can be alone. and i think that knowledge makes love even more lovely. to both give and absorb love because we want to, not because we have to. not any specific person's love.

i am delirious. my body is tired, but mostly i am emotionally exhausted. i marvel at all the tears i've dispensed this week. happy tears, worried tears, angry tears, sad tears. i am terrified and feel like always crying. momentarily i have exhausted my tears and anxiety and now just feel tired. i have done the crossword puzzle. i have written in my journal. i have watched 17 again and decided that zac effron is dreamy, despite his flat-ironed hair, and that i am in love with him. i have eaten some rubbery chicken and an individually wrapped roll that came with tasty buttery spread. i have slept for an hour and a half. i have gone to the bathroom to throw up out of fear, only to cry myself into the water-spotted mirror and try to compose myself before returning to my seat. i have looked at pictures of my friends and mourned them. i have listened to the little girl sitting ahead of me scream and watched her patent black shoes kick angrily from the armrest. 

i feel most like her though i don't voice it to anyone here. i feel loud and anxious and in need of attention. i feel like i need someone to hold me and say hush little girl. be quiet. calm down.

i try to wrap my mind around what makes this so scary. if it's distance or language or solitude or change or money or just the unknown. while i can't quite pinpoint my fear, or articulate in any real way, i know it is there. i am terrified. i suppose it's that i rarely look at my life beyond the next moment. the last four years have been filled with a sort of frenetic activity- of lunch dates and movies, concerts and dive bars, early morning walks and coffee, beers in the park and day trips out of san francisco. it has been fun, simple, unchallenging. i have been so distracted by the moments that i've never really had to look at the larger picture. so here i am with three and a half months sitting in front of me. i have a suitcase and that is all really. no home, no address, no keys, no phone number, no ties. i am watching the minutes of flight time count down. 35 minutes remaining. 35 minutes to london, to london's morning, which is now my morning. my mourning. my celebration.

i would like just to be in berlin. to see that it is a real place, with people and things. maybe then it will be less scary. maybe more. i feel sick. i want a hug. i want a bed. i want to be home.