Beautiful War by Kings of Leon

And so, another day at the airport waiting to board the life or death journey in the solitary skyline. It still fascinates me how little everything is from up above despite this being my 8th time on a plane -- but the usual bitter aftertaste feels like a bucketful of lava being poured down to my soul. I like being alone and independent, at the same time, I dislike the everlasting loneliness within the fragment of my heart -- I am unsure how to comprehend it precisely but everyone has it, and everyone's familiar with it through and through.

Currently inside the plane that just took off -- my nose is itchy, I'm scared it will turn raw if I scratch it out of habit.
God knows how many passengers are in this plane... I wonder if any of them are as anxious as I am. I wonder if they are in love and having the greatest time of their lives. Maybe they could be in pain after a huge breakup or loss... What if they have thought about suicide at one point, like I did? This curiosity is similar to my itchy nose but this one is something that I cannot scratch -- life goes on anyway...

After listening to several tracks of Kings of Leon in the airport, I have now switched to Marcy's Playground to dive in a little bit deeper to hear what they had and of course, wonder how and why it affected their avid listeners or the ones within their generation. These are the useless things I think about when I want to escape the thought of uni -- well aware it being the first semester of my first year and all, but it is a slightly adequate excuse to just stray away from it for awhile because I am crazy as it is, don't really want my new reputation to be Batshit Crazy -- not that I care about what they think (ha ha).

There was a random thought that embarked during mass communication lecture regarding books; "I can write a book, and I will." Being a dreamer, in my opinion is a major blessing because there are endless possibilities and whimsical ideas. I am lucky enough as well to have a family that supports whatever dreams or ambitions I have or had ever since I was a naive, spoiled-af child.
When I was 8, I wanted to be The President, but only because CNN was frequently on and I saw how ridiculously horrible Bush was as America's president. At 12, I got addicted to astronomies and mythologies -- which led to the idea of being an archaeologist and astronomist. Few years passed, 16 years old, I asked dad if it was okay to take Philosophy as I realised how unbelievably curious I was and still am about life, BUT he said no. Then, I turned 17 and started writing every single day and by 18, I was 2 months in being an intern as asst. editor at a local magazine company. From that moment on, the love I have for writing increased rapidly and started making poetry, also bits and pieces of contents for a book that I created but put on hold. Present day, realising my capabilities and absurdly huge amount of passion, I am now taking communications degree with hopes that eventually, my knowledge regarding whatever I learn within these three years would suffice. Who knows I might end up being part of a rad company in New York, or London -- heck, could even be Paris! *crosses fingers*