The airport means alot to me. It always happens to evoke some sort of emotion from me, mostly when I'm traveling alone, thus having less to distract me, giving me more time to reflect. I'm often overwhelmed with a bitter sweet feeling as I'm walking to or from the port parking lot. Flashbacks of of hello's and goodbyes attack me from every part of my mind. The hello's spark the smallest feeling of warmth inside, but that feeling is quickly silenced by the sting of goodbyes. There are still strong feelings of abandonment, tracing back years, that are resurrected on the short walks to my departing gate. It's something I haven't learned how to shake.

There have been a lot of hello's and goodbyes this year. After today's trip, I will have been to New York City five times, ten trips to Minneapolis, England this past March, Toronto in January, Dallas twice this summer, and returning from Tokyo and Singapore two months ago. That's a lot of hello's and goodbyes for one year, not even taking into consideration all the loved ones that came to visit me. I've left a little bit of my heart in countless cities this year.

I hope to find my way to the west coast and also receive another stamp in my passport before year end.

There's something about the airport that make people a little sweeter, and a little less greedy. If you ignore all the upset feelings of waiting in line and the tedious safety procedures, you'll sense an abundance of emotion. Somehow, it puts us in our place and reminds us of what we take for granted. It's the hello's and goodbyes that remind us how short life is. It tells us that people come and go, sometimes with no warning at all; almost like life and death, just not as permanent of a lesson.

Maybe we should all spend more time at airports.

Sometimes I get sick of waking up in the morning feeling paranoid because I don’t remember who’s sleeping next to me in my bed. Sometimes I get sick of wondering what time it is, what day of the week it is, and who owns which day. Some days my conscience outweighs my never ending ability to excuse all my morally wrong actions against social class. Some days my mind battles with my heart to find something real.

Sometimes the companionship of a beautiful woman is more of a hindrance than worth.

We have feelings too.

We are not heartbreakers by nature, but by circumstance. Somewhere in between all the lying, the cheating, and the stealing, all I ever wanted to do was feel utterly and wholly complete. I know full well that sometimes I inadvertently veer off course but does this define who I am? Do the fluctuations between my day to day actions define who I am, or is it about intentions and my prospective ultimate destination? I would like to think the latter but sometimes I don’t know if that’s just me tricking myself.

But with age comes experience, and lessons, and consequence. I’ve paid for my actions, indirectly and directly; still paying. I don’t regret what I’ve done and the places I’ve been because it’s taken me to what I believe is a better place. Who I am today is who I’ve wished to be all along. I know myself very well, my needs, my wants, my desires. This is something I could have never managed without making all the mistakes I have. The questions that repeat in my head hover around what I can do to assure the people that are important to me that I’ve changed, that I’ve been changing. Maybe this is all on a case to case basis and revolves around how much faith is instilled in me by others.

It took me a long time to realize that the love of one amazing woman outweighs any type of love given by all the other women I stumble upon along the way.