Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

Who knew when I traded in my wings for a pair of bicycle tires that four weeks later I would still be experiencing a heartache that I haven't felt since college.
See, I honestly thought that when I met Michael my days of broken hearts and crying myself to sleep would be over. The boy I was with before him taught me enough about love to know that I never wanted to be in that vulnerable position again and that I would guard my heart against evildoers and naysayers at all costs.
Then I started flying.
And this job, well, it began to treat me just like that boy had treated me. It would build me up and wave utter happiness and dreams-come-true in front of my face, promise me the world and the sky above, it would make me feel special and fun and then... Then, just like that boy, it would break my heart. I would be short-called at 3am, yelled at, worked for days without food on 6 hours of sleep... furloughed... crushed. But then, almost apologetically, something would happen to make me fall in love with it all over again. And once again I would find myself wrapped in the loving arms of my airline, safe and secure and happy.
But, just like in college, I knew deep down that this relationship was not right for me, it wasn't healthy. So, I built up my courage and I broke-up with my dream. I quit my job.
Saying that, even now after four weeks, it still hurts.
As a child I used to stop whatever I was doing to watch a plane fly overhead and I would wish with all my heart to be on it going wherever the fabulous people on board were going. Now, everyday at work in my little park I find myself searching the sky for a jetplane to take me away...
Don't get me wrong, I know I did the right thing. And just like in college, this heartache will pass too. And hopefully there will come a day when I can drive past the airport without tearing up just like I can now watch a magic show with shedding a tear. But for now, my heart is broken. And for now I'm sad.