I sit here, typing on my laptop nearly two full hours before I expect my
airplane to board. I see people stressed and frustrated to not be getting
on flights they were supposed to make it on. My eye lids droop down over my
tired eyes because I haven’t gotten any sleep. I’m sitting here alone.
Brock and I looked for his passport nearly the entire night last night. He
got in his car and drove to work to see if it could possibly be there. No
passport, no Canada. So I’m sitting in the airport, prepared to make this
trip alone, and I hardly notice when a tear slides down my cheek. I want to
go home. I miss mom and dad, Kiera and Lianne, all of my cousins… but I
didn’t want to go alone. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen.
Why does it always seem like the good things in life get tarnished to the
point that you can’t begin to enjoy them any more?
They say that every dark cloud has a silver lining. I feel like all of my
silver clouds have dark centers, and every time something finally goes
right… something else goes wrong enough to more than make up for it.
Frick? I think damn so.