A First Step Into Immigration

I flew for the first time today

That isn’t 100% true. I got on an airplane for the first time when I was 1 year old. Then again when I was 16, but that was only for 30 minutes so it doesn't count. 

So today, at 18, I flew alone for the first time.

I ran away. Or I ran towards, whichever you prefer. 

I’m hot. My face feels tight. I have no access to music. Those sentences are intended as facts, not complaints. I promise. 

When I was a kid I liked hiding in supermarkets, or malls, but mostly clothing stores. I liked the sneaking and stealth and I liked being found. Make of that what you wish.

I have to admit, I’m not very fond of blogs. I hate travel blogs. They seem conceited rather than helpful for no experience is truly universal. And yes, I do realize I sound conceited when I say that.

So this is for no one rather than myself. I can’t afford a psychologist right now. This will do. 

I don’t have any encouraging and inspirational words today. As I see the miles tick by on my flight tracker and sense myself get further and further into a country I don’t know and don’t particularly want to, I sense myself also getting older. Growing up. Maybe that doesn’t make much sense. 

I wish I didn’t think as much. Life would be quieter.

I need to brush my teeth.


“Las estrellas me vieron cruzar” -Residente