I know it’s been awhile.
And after hearing a thousand people tell me I need to write something again, I sat down determined to come up with something so profound I’d want to slap myself. And then, came nothing but words.
Things like… effort. happiness. understanding. us. Other phrases like.. Fuck you. fuck that. imperfect selves. perfect expectations. And even sentences like… I know it’s real. It’s worth it. I’m leaving. I’m always here. What am I doing? I know what I want.
I’ve always prided myself on being able to express how I’m feeling, sometimes even eloquently. I usually don’t even brainstorm like that. I just sit down and let my fingers type. Staring at this jumbled soup of words, I got stuck.
Because I can’t quiiiite put my finger on it. And I don’t actually know how this changes things. So I can’t reaallly speak on it. I don’t know the logic of it all. All I know, is that I feel it.
I woke up yesterday and for a split second, I was perfectly content. I wanted to stop time and live in that moment, revel in it, thrive in it. My heart was happy and I felt… connected to everything I want, my heart’s passion, my happiness. And then, in the blink of an eye and the kiss of the shoulder, it was gone.
I fear I now have become imprisoned by that same feeling, because although fleeting, I won’t rest until I get it back.
I had a feeling.
And frankly, it was just so nice to feel something again.