Is this peace?
Is this peace? While I wait to board a flight to San Francisco. It's 9:19 PM. There are a hundred clocks in this place. It's impossible to not know the time. Our gate opens at 9:45. I have almost a half-hour.
Is this peace? As I pace around a row of empty seats with my hands in my pockets. I look down at the carpet. I hear conversations. I am bored. I want to get there already. My girlfriend is there, waiting for me. I want to be with her. But is this really what I want?
Is this peace that I have now? Do I want to get there so bad that I'm willing to leave this peace? As I wait, as I pace, as I look around and listen—there's nothing to do, nothing happening.
Is this peace? I have said before that I want peace. Perhaps I already have it. Perhaps I am not ready to receive it. I say I want peace, but I still want pleasure more. And I am willing to risk pain to get it.