You’ll Get There Eventually

 

(Photo owned by Carlos Canche Uc on pexels)

I was already reaching for that vodka bottle after spending more than three hours at the airport, waiting for my flight. The urge to drown all the emotions I’ve been bottling up for the past few months was so strong—yet my will was even stronger. I stopped myself. I caught my reflection right there at the booze rack; I looked terrible. I’d been crying non-stop since I left my guest house earlier this morning. I got out of the liquor store as fast as I could, headed to the ladies’ room, washed my face, and tried to fix my already torn T-shirt.

Airports have this way of making time feel like it’s dragging—especially when your mind is heavy and your heart feels raw. The waiting just makes the ache sharper because you’re stuck in one place, both physically and emotionally. I just want to get off this island as soon as possible; I can’t bear these mixed emotions anymore. And yeah, I want to run away—far away again, like I used to do over and over. But I’m stuck for a few more hours because the airline has rescheduled my flight so many times that I’ve lost count. So, I’ve got no choice but to sit with these overflowing emotions and deal with them.

I texted one of my best friends and told her, “I can’t bear this anymore. I just can’t.” Then I got up, walked toward my boarding gate, passed it, and headed upstairs to the outdoor smoking area. For every airplane that took off, I sent them off with prayers. I sent them with my wishes, my hopes, my broken promises. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I was glad nobody cared—so I didn’t have to make up stories if they asked.

When you choose yourself and decide to save yourself, letting go of things and people you deeply care about is hard. Harder than you can imagine. It feels like you’re losing your own home. It feels like the world is plotting against your happiness. It feels like someone just stabbed you right in the heart—even though your heart was torn into pieces a long time ago, it still hurts. The ache is so painful that it makes you want to numb it rather than heal it—because you know the residue will still linger there even after years and years.

(Photo owned by Anton Porsche on Pexels)

Then, this old woman came up to me as I wiped my tears.

“Are you okay, dear?”
“Uh, yeah, ma’am… just overwhelmed for Eid Al-Fitr. And today is my birthday—I’m already 38, yet still trying to navigate my life. Such a big fat failure.”

Then she hugged me and gently rubbed my back, and I sobbed hard. A complete stranger just gave me the thing I needed most today—a big, warm, genuine hug.

“You’re not a big fat failure; you did your best, and I believe you’ve been trying your best. Keep going; you’ll get there, wherever you’re heading, eventually. It’s okay, dear… I got you.”

For the love of God, I just wanted her to take me home—to my mum—right away.

Happy birthday, Ega.
You’ll get there eventually.


Ngurah Rai Airport, 28th March 2025
“Stay” - Post Malone