Thoughts from the big flying tin in the sky

Flying gives me too much time alone with myself. It’s not that I have a problem being alone with myself, or even mind it. I actually quite like time with myself. This however, is good only in small doses though. It’s just that sometimes too much free time inside my head is a bad thing. With too much free time, my mind quickly gets bored and wanders. It’s like a computer idling and the screen saver comes on. My mind strongly dislikes being bored, so it will always seek to entertain itself. With a lack of outside stimuli, the mind will create its own entertainment. This gives birth to the voices and a stage for them to perform.

It’s quite interesting all the unique voices that are created inside my head. Some are funny, some are insightful, there’re many that rants, there are the overly nice voices, of course there are those violent ones, and there’s always a couple of dirty ones (sometimes funny, sometimes just plain wrong). Then there are many that are insignificant, some not even speaking a language that I understand (this is quite interesting in of itself, but I won’t get too nerdy here to give my possible theories on that). Basically, those that doesn’t keep the mind interested disappears as quickly as they surfaced. Most often, a group of them would converse over some topic. Four or five separate thoughts and streams of thinking discussing topics inside my mind. It’s very interesting because I hear it as someone outside the conversation.

It is also this time that they come out. The voices that were and are always there. I generally don’t have recollection of the other voices or when they first appeared. These voices that have always been there, these were the first that I remember. These are the voices of doubts, fears, hopelessness, and apathy, all of the children of Despair. These are not to be confused with Death. This is not the voices of Death, she’s amazingly pleasant and soothing. No, these are the voices that are far worst, these are the voices of Despair. These voices were there to fill my mind as my body laid on the side of the field after the accident. Broken, and blood flowing freely out of my mouth, these were the voices that I heard. As I laid there staring into the light, warm and welcoming, the voices were excited and singing for me to give in. Luckily or unluckily for me, there was another voice that roared through those childish cries of Despair and made me struggle to take each excruciating painful breaths through my collapsed lungs.

These are the voices that whisper in my head each night. The voices that I hear in the dark, when my mind is free to wander. Suddenly, the jolt from the turbulence reminds me I’m on the plane. I can’t wait to get home.

I hate pretzels. I wish they would go back to peanuts. If there was an airline that served boiled peanuts. They could name their price.