So this is a new fan fiction that I am starting. It is merely a work of fiction about Josh Hutcherson. I write on other sites, and just started on here, and a lot of you have already been very supportive! There is a cast list, and a trailer available on my page.
Thanks for reading. xx.
March 16, 2013
My movement is leisurely as I put the finishing touches on my list of things to pack for my trip. Not only am I risking a major physical breakdown on the flight there from my major motion sickness and irrational apprehension of being one-hundred thousand miles off of solid ground, but also I am welcoming a decline in my mental health.
Four years… It’s been four years since I have last visited my dad. I was 16 last time. Sixteen years old when I left, and sixteen years old when I convinced myself that I was never going back because of the stress it caused me to be there. Yet here I am, packing my bags like I used to, to go visit my dad in Panama where he is stationed for the military and has been ever since I was twelve.
Deployment as a “military brat” was never something that was effortless to deal with whenever I was younger, and it still isn’t easy and almost certainly never will be until the day he retires.
He holds a high position in the air force that deals with construction of airplanes and such, so he possesses a good deal of money, and usually he just works on the base in Panama, but evidently something has come up over seas and he is needed. Quite unfortunate for the reason that we never know what the days will bring over there. Though he is not going to be in combat, unexpected twists and turns happen day by day where he will be, but I ought to keep my hopes high that he will be safe despite the small probability of something going horribly wrong.
I am taking a risk going back to Panama, but I’m doing it for my dad, not for me. Well, I guess you could assume that part of it is for me because I don’t want to regret not visiting my dad before he could potentially be killed in Afghanistan, and I don’t want his last memory of me in person to be an unstable teenager, unable to speak or move because of complete and utter shock.
I want him to see me as the woman I have grown to be over the past four years and how I have dealt with the unfortunate sequence of events I had to endure as said unstable teenager. I want to make him proud of me, proud of the daughter that I have recently failed to be.
And though I am forcing myself to embark on this trip, I am thinking of the future in my decision, something I didn’t, but should have, done before.
Maybe I am being pessimistic about the outcome that will come about in Panama. Perhaps I should look at the opportunity that could come from it.
Regardless, I am anxious yet expectant for the end result that could derive from this risk. And maybe, just maybe, the sun will rise over the horizon of my unhappiness that has surfaced, pull it down like an anchor, and bring something brilliant and blissful in return.
Maybe I “go to seek a Great Perhaps,” as John Green had explained in one of his books, and maybe said “Great Perhaps” will surprise me with its creation.
“Ellis, you’re going to miss your flight!” Anna strikes the door violently and yells through the solid oak wood.
I scurry to zip my suitcase, change out of my baggy sweater and into the clothes I set aside for the flight, and throw my backpack over my shoulders, “Alright, I’m coming!” I yell back, the nerves in my gut only growing with anticipation.
And so, the war of a lifetime finally begins.