Status: how i used to think it'd be.
Maps
leaving
It's midnight and she's trembling. In truth, it's well-past midnight but she wishes she were more poetic with these kinds of things. So she tiptoes through her bedroom, looking around and trying to savour the last time she'll be there. The walls are now bare, pictures taken down for her to save inside her luggage, and the shelves seem empty even though a variety of things still fill them. Sighing, she turns back around and lifts the suitcase to her chest, where it can't make any noise.
The letter in her hand comes to rest against the front door, then she's opening it and closing it for the very last time. A shiver makes its way violently rough the slope of her back but she's quick to dismiss it, and soon she's moving through the street with her suitcase behind her, the noise of the wheels grounding her.
She's crying when she reaches the end of the street and sees his car approaching, too fast as always. It isn't until it has stopped that she notices he's the only one inside. It hurts, but she rapidly slides into the copilot seat. He doesn't do anything but stare at her, brown eyes impasive as she tries to breathe.
"You okay?" he asks, because he's her best friend and that's all he needs to question, even though the answer is evident.
"I'm sad," she lets a shuddery breath leave her lips. "But it's what I want to do. It's my decision and they don't have anything to say on it. They don't... They're not here to stop me. Not anymore."
He smiles. It's soft, and tiny, and he probably feels fifty shades of sad that she's leaving them all behind. So he starts the car again and that CD she gave him two years ago begins to play and they sing along one last time. The windows are down, their voices sound raw and she begins to laugh and cry when Fast Car begins to play because that's their song and she'll never forget him.
The city comes to view as they pass it and the most miserable of the feelings catches her by surprise: five years ago she had hated this city with everything she had and now the polaroids that sat on a box inside her suitcase were filled with the landscape it brought. She wiped another stray tear and kept singing - that's all she ever did.
"You know, your cousin's gonna throw a fit," he says when a softer song plays and she remembers how many times she's played it on guitar and sang with her friends in Plaza España.
"Yeah," she whispers. "My sister, too. You know how she is."
"But what about your friends?" his voice broke. "Don't you love them enough to stay?"
And she said, "If I don't leave now then I will never get away."
They reach the airport. He parks without much care if it's far, but they have an hour and a half to get to her plane and they walk slow. It isn't until they reach the doors that she sees them; all of them.
It's hard to miss them with the ruckus they're making. A few havr guitars and some are crying already when they see her. Some she met a year ago. Some she met five years ago. All of them are her friends, and they take turns hugging her tightly into their arms. She receives letters, stuffed animals and even a bag of her favorite candy. Her eyes burn too much and she feels like choking.
"You better be happy, yeah?" Guille says, and she has to nod and hug him again because it's too much. Too much.
Then they all reach the gates that will lead her away from her mother country and the question hangs in the air, leaving somebody's mouth - whose? She isn't sure, but she doesn't care. It's there and it's inevitable.
"Do you really have to leave?"
She turns around, hugs herself, thinks of the best way to voice what she's thinking until it finally comes and she's overwhelmed.
"No," she finally answers. "No, I donnt have to leave. I'm not obliged to leave this country but it's what I want to do. I can't be tied to a family that won't accept who I am, even if they love me. I can't live my life if I am always hiding, lying and disappointing my family. Because that's not a family, and this is my life, no one else's.
"So I'm leaving. I'm leaving to do whatever the hell I want. I'm leaving to be as free as I can. I don't care if I have to live in a shitty apartment for a year or two. I don't care if my boss is a dick and my band can't make it big until ten years later. I don't care, because it will be my life, with the decisions I make, and the things only I want in it."
It's quiet for a moment. Then her best friend nods and pulls her into the tightest hug she's ever had. It crushes her ribs and it makes her cry loudly. Then it's over and she wipes her tears away and she's saying goodbye for the last time.
The bridges are burnt as the guy next to her on the plane asks her if she's alright. He asks her why she's crying. The woman beside him is listening as well.
"There was a map, in my room," she tells them, rubbing her eyes. "On the wall of my room. And I've got big, big, plans."
The letter in her hand comes to rest against the front door, then she's opening it and closing it for the very last time. A shiver makes its way violently rough the slope of her back but she's quick to dismiss it, and soon she's moving through the street with her suitcase behind her, the noise of the wheels grounding her.
She's crying when she reaches the end of the street and sees his car approaching, too fast as always. It isn't until it has stopped that she notices he's the only one inside. It hurts, but she rapidly slides into the copilot seat. He doesn't do anything but stare at her, brown eyes impasive as she tries to breathe.
"You okay?" he asks, because he's her best friend and that's all he needs to question, even though the answer is evident.
"I'm sad," she lets a shuddery breath leave her lips. "But it's what I want to do. It's my decision and they don't have anything to say on it. They don't... They're not here to stop me. Not anymore."
He smiles. It's soft, and tiny, and he probably feels fifty shades of sad that she's leaving them all behind. So he starts the car again and that CD she gave him two years ago begins to play and they sing along one last time. The windows are down, their voices sound raw and she begins to laugh and cry when Fast Car begins to play because that's their song and she'll never forget him.
The city comes to view as they pass it and the most miserable of the feelings catches her by surprise: five years ago she had hated this city with everything she had and now the polaroids that sat on a box inside her suitcase were filled with the landscape it brought. She wiped another stray tear and kept singing - that's all she ever did.
"You know, your cousin's gonna throw a fit," he says when a softer song plays and she remembers how many times she's played it on guitar and sang with her friends in Plaza España.
"Yeah," she whispers. "My sister, too. You know how she is."
"But what about your friends?" his voice broke. "Don't you love them enough to stay?"
And she said, "If I don't leave now then I will never get away."
They reach the airport. He parks without much care if it's far, but they have an hour and a half to get to her plane and they walk slow. It isn't until they reach the doors that she sees them; all of them.
It's hard to miss them with the ruckus they're making. A few havr guitars and some are crying already when they see her. Some she met a year ago. Some she met five years ago. All of them are her friends, and they take turns hugging her tightly into their arms. She receives letters, stuffed animals and even a bag of her favorite candy. Her eyes burn too much and she feels like choking.
"You better be happy, yeah?" Guille says, and she has to nod and hug him again because it's too much. Too much.
Then they all reach the gates that will lead her away from her mother country and the question hangs in the air, leaving somebody's mouth - whose? She isn't sure, but she doesn't care. It's there and it's inevitable.
"Do you really have to leave?"
She turns around, hugs herself, thinks of the best way to voice what she's thinking until it finally comes and she's overwhelmed.
"No," she finally answers. "No, I donnt have to leave. I'm not obliged to leave this country but it's what I want to do. I can't be tied to a family that won't accept who I am, even if they love me. I can't live my life if I am always hiding, lying and disappointing my family. Because that's not a family, and this is my life, no one else's.
"So I'm leaving. I'm leaving to do whatever the hell I want. I'm leaving to be as free as I can. I don't care if I have to live in a shitty apartment for a year or two. I don't care if my boss is a dick and my band can't make it big until ten years later. I don't care, because it will be my life, with the decisions I make, and the things only I want in it."
It's quiet for a moment. Then her best friend nods and pulls her into the tightest hug she's ever had. It crushes her ribs and it makes her cry loudly. Then it's over and she wipes her tears away and she's saying goodbye for the last time.
The bridges are burnt as the guy next to her on the plane asks her if she's alright. He asks her why she's crying. The woman beside him is listening as well.
"There was a map, in my room," she tells them, rubbing her eyes. "On the wall of my room. And I've got big, big, plans."