Ten hours.

Last time i felt this desolate wasn't exactly that long ago. It was on a ten hour flight back from Athens.

Imagine ten hours, in the day. Hardly sleepy. Ten hours, thinking about how unsettled everything is back home. Ten hours, thinking about how I'll never see the past two glorious weeks in Greece anytime soon (or ever again). Ten hours = 5 trips (or more) to the loo at intervals of two hours each. Ten hours, watching all the movies available. Ten hours of wishing SIA still showed Mamma Mia. Ten hours of flipping through krisshop and thinking about whether I should get the YSL french manicure kit or the Ralph Lauren watch (ended up with Tommy Hilfiger). Ten hours of wondering how it'll feel like, squeezing self out of the tiny window and falling down below on Ahmedabad. Ten hours of pure torment. Ten hours of mapping my life out, and then changing my mind and re-mapping it over and over, ten times. Ten hours of reminiscing; Paris and romance. Ten hours of typing and erasing on Lola Smokah. Ten hours of reading. Ten hours of wishing that somebody back home missed me. Ten hours of wishing I had somebody to miss. Ten hours of enduring a dulling headache. Ten hours of wishing I could have alcohol like a non-muslim easily could. Ten fucking hours of great discomfort in every sense; spiritually, mentally, bodily... you get my drift.

Actually. I think if i didn't have faith, if I were a free-thinker, I'd drink myself silly. So I'd have a reason to blatantly refuse logical reasoning. Obviously, I need a whole lot of guidance, religion wise.

Things didn't get better after that ten hours. The hours continued piling on and on. Shake it off, shake it off. Shake. It. Off.

Cannot sleep tonight. I wish I can squeeze myself out the tiny window, more than 60,000 km above in stratosphere, a limb at a time... and just fall. With my cheeks flapping and teeth baring, surrendering to gravity, letting it just take me away. I'd keep my eyes close too. Wouldn't want to go blind due to air pressure during the last moments of living.

Morbid much. It's just the night talking. And dawn breaking.