Roller Coaster (oohh oohh oohh)

It's absurd how quickly I can switch from feeling like June 16th will never come to being completely overwhelmed by how soon I'll be saying goodbye. I started thinking about this odd emotional seesaw effect. Like a wannabe writer is prone to do, I searched for an adequate analogy. Immediately I was drawn to the most overused, yet universally relevant emotional metaphor: the roller coaster.

When most people describe love, life or what have you as a roller coaster, generally they're drawing a picture of the ride itself; crawling up toward the peak, the exhilarating dive, maybe even corkscrewing through a tangled mess of loops. That doesn't quite sum up what I feel. I'm thinking of the big picture here.

My metaphor begins when you first get in line, an unfortunate yet unavoidable part of the pastime. At first you're fidgety. You wish you could bypass the line all together, eager for the thrill at the end. As you get closer, however, shit starts to get real. You look way up at that mountain of steel and start to feel nervous. All of a sudden, you're not quite sure you're ready. You know you're going to enjoy the ride, you are in this line for a reason. But with that huge leap looming ominously before you, you can't help but feel a jolt of panic.

I'm teetering somewhere between these first two steps, which explains perfectly (to me) the bipolarity as of late. But in just weeks—weeks!—I will be climbing into that cart (boarding the first plane), inching my way up that steep, steep incline (boarding planes two and three), and just when I don't think I can take the anxiety anymore, I'll reach the peak (land in Barcelona), and then I'll be smiling and screaming simultaneously as I enjoy the roller coaster of life that I've been so desperate to start.