Tilting at windmills, wilting. Kicking an anthill, killing. Slowly decomposing landfill. I'm on a plane evading sleep in neither the aisle or window seats. These thoughts lack words. Homesickness hurts but being bored is worse. I was totally nervous to go to Japan. My words never land standing upright. Despite everything I've seen, I wish I could believe. I'm sick of sleeping on airport floors, aimlessly wandering through airport stores. Everyone I see enjoys this more than me. But, I don't think I can perceive that this happening. Maybe I don't believe that this is more than it seems. Why don't I feel differently?