Nowhere to go...

The world rushes past me at a constant 70 kilometres per hour, occasionally punctuated by screeching brakes and melting burns. The never ceasing monotone of tires battling asphalt drains my empty ears. Smoke and burning rubber are the only smells I can remember as they move in and out of the inner cavities of my body with impunity. Every single organ in my body seems to have given up – except the mind which still occasionally sets out on expeditions to the remotest corners of the ocean in search of silence and treks its way to the top of a snow-capped mountain for a breath of fresh air; and carries back with it, their barren isolation.

I don't remember

I have forgotten what it feels like to be in love - to feel the infatuation, the anxiety, the thrill of making eye-contact while trying to steal a glance and then noticing her lips part in a half concealed smile, the utter laziness you feel when you wake up in the morning that makes you lie in bed thinking about her for hours without getting up, poetic thoughts gushing through the mind with every single thought of her, the intoxicating mix of urge, pain, jealousy, hope, fear and apprehension, the blind optimism…
And with it, I seem to have forgotten, for a brief moment, how to write.