When you want to run away as much as I do, the best job is to be a flight attendant. You never have to worry about staying somewhere too long, seeing people too long, or getting caught by the people you’ve run so far from. I’ve worked my life around running from my problems to end up in the air where none of it matters.

Nothing in my life ever had enough reason for me to stay; I’ve never met anyone worth staying on the ground for, as long as I could get back up into the clouds, looking over the earth so far below, where all problems seem to be I didn’t care.

I’ve met enough people on flights, scoped out cute guys, even talked to some idols, of course though I was just a flight attendant to them, someone to serve them peanuts and some kind of beverage, they read my name tag, smiled and said “Miyoung, do you have any coke?”

In which I’d smile and ask “Cup or bottle?”

“Bottle.” They’d reply and I’d pull one out of the cooler under my cart, hand it to them and make my way through the rows serving refreshments on their short journey with a smile.

~Editing this story~