you know what's embarassing? crying on an airport shuttle bus. because there's no way to hide it, really. shuttles are always crowded and the seats are arranged in such a way that you are forced to face your copassengers. so no matter what you do, they know you are crying. and crying people (especially crying people that are alone) don't do anything but make everyone else SUPER uncomfortable.
and they were probably all thinking, "seriously? who ACTUALLY cries at the airport?" then they look around to see if there are movie cameras and they've somehow unknowingly stumbled onto the set of a romantic comedy.
at least i made it out of the terminal. right? that would have been worse.
i don't really ever cry, so when i do i have no idea how to handle it. i suppose first i try to decide why exactly i'm crying. it's not because he's gone because that has happened before. maybe it's because last time, in the back of my mind, i knew i would see him again, and maybe this time i don't know that.
actually i think i was crying because life is just not fair. which sounds horribly childish. that is a lesson i have supposedly learned before, but maybe i hadn't.
it's not fair that i cannot legally work in europe. it's not fair that i spent an entire night trying to think of a way that i could but came up with nothing. it's not fair that relationships have to be decided by arbitrary things like geography. it's not fair that something like that makes it over before it starts. it's not fair that, because of airport security, you can no longer run to the gate to stop someone from boarding a plane. it's not fair that doing that probably wouldn't work anyway.
it's not fair that i couldn't think of something to say that could fix it.
and it's not fair that maybe that thing is not what he wanted anyway. it's not fair that the nonexistant fix-all might not actually fix all.
maybe i'm naive but i didn't think it worked this way. but maybe it does, and maybe that's the lesson.
so i was sitting in a seat, freezing, tired, hoping my phone would vibrate (but it didn't), crying like a child with a child's excuse for it. life's not fair.
i don't know how to conclude this, except to say that after i decided what i was crying about, i tried to think of something else in order to stop. there was a couple across the way who had just arrived from ireland and the woman had the most beautiful accent. so i listened for a while. but it just made it worse. somehow, listening to this woman say "wednesday" made me cry even more.
i wish i had an accent. life's not fair.
*this title is a line from "the drugs don't work," by the verve.