EPILOUGE
Word; plural, noun.  A single distinct meaningful element of speech or writing, used with others (or sometimes alone) to form a sentence.
Others; used to refer to a person or a thing that is different.
Alone; having no one else present.
I'm a word sounded by others, I'm Miles, and I’m a word that’s alone in a vast symphony of others. A word that’s different.
1
I'm on the way to the airport, I'm going to Italy, not sure where just where ever my plane takes me, I'm alone and I'm finding some where new.
New; already existing but seen for the first time, not existing before.
My lives never began, and I'm scared, sick of waiting for it to happen,
something like a great perhaps, like the great perhaps in Looking For Alaska and the famous writer/scholar Renaissance Rabelais last words where "I go to seek a Great Perhaps" I don't want to die before I find it I want to live it before I go, before in die. I want to be worthy of Rabelais' when in die.
So, my story is Italy, chunks of my past, all my lonely words and my Great Perhaps.
2
I'm nearly at the airport and even though it's raining my I've got my hand out the window, slicing the wind with my frozen cold finer tips. And even though I'm trying not to but I'm crying the tears, bitter sweet, salty tears rolling down my cheeks and dripping down my chin. But I'm ignoring them because my hands out the window and the other one's on the wheel and I'm on my way.
Way; a road/track/path for traveling along, at or to a considerable distance or extent.
That’s me and I'm in the airport, all the people rushing round me shoving me when in didn't move, I stumble through, then I'm on my plane, and the tears are gone, I've left everyone behind.
3
The leaves fall softly at my feet, as if saying welcome, and in my heart I'm singing, I try to smile, but it feels strange, new, like I'm splitting my face in half. I on the other side I relish it for a bit, then my phone buzzes against my thigh, I take it out 45 messages and 17 missed calls, I stare at the screen for a bit then throw it in the bin at my side. Done. Over. One less tie to hold onto.
Then I walk away, ignoring the glances that come my way, and still in walk as I hear the laughter behind me, my insides curling as I heard them chortle and snicker as they pulled it out, I didn't falter.