I wished to be Spiderman while growing up. Who didn’t?

Asides the tragic events which birthed his existence as one of the coolest superheroes to exist, Spiderman was the ideal icon for me. Up until now.

22 days ago, I was forced, compelled to leave the only place my heart called home. Walking out of the door to the open street, I perceived the unfamiliar scent of endings and beginnings.

It was then I realized, that if the world would end, it won’t end in a day or a moment. It’ll be in bits and portions. It’ll come with heartbreaks and hope, of some sort.

I tuned my ears to the sound of the announcer over the sound system at the airport as she called my name.

"Are you fine?” a kind young man asked.

"No. My heart's palpitating and I’m fucking scared!”.

But I didn't say that. Instead, I nodded as I took my bags to where I was to be addressed. A mistake had been made and needed to be corrected. I watched as eyes stared at me. Perhaps, this would be my chance to run away from serving my country. Perhaps, my government had decided that I wasn’t worthy enough to serve. I would be eternally grateful if that were to be the case.

But it wasn’t. The attendant quickly handed me my new boarding pass and apologized for the mix-up. This was my third time flying and my first time alone.

Like Peter Parker, I was being launched into the unknown by tragic events beyond my control. However, unlike Parker, I had no superpowers because the only alien substance running through my veins was fear which had made my mind his home and my body, his companion.

Welcome to my Far from Home Series.



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