As I sit on this swing I can't help but wonder, "Can tomorrow not happen?"
Not that I'm avoiding anything, or dreading an event bound to happen, I just...Want to get lost in the moment.
There's nothing perfect about the moment. No special company, not an amazing day that I don't want to end, or an unfulfilled hope for which I want to stretch time.
Tonight, tired and sleepy, I feel distant. This happens every now and then - at the end of the day when I've stopped thinking, stopped reflecting, stopped worrying, stopped planning - just stopped.
Come to think of it, that's probably the perfection of the moment. I am just being. Nothing running through my mind, no task at hand, just nothing. Of course now that's not true. I'm writing now. But it still feels nearly the same.
Do you know the feeling? It feels like being a kid in the backseat of the car. Not a care in the world. Not late for anything. No where to be. Just watching the raindrops race down the window at night, as the street lights blur behind them.
That is the perfection of the moment. The simple bliss of a childhood which ended too soon. I realise that those older than me may consider my age as a part of those blissful years, but even they must agree that childhood goes by in a flash.
As I swing here, reminiscing, the moment ends abruptly. With these thoughts and memories buzzing through my head, I no longer wish that the day not end. A twinge of sorrow seeps through me as the bliss melts away. I lay down and close my eyes, the swing my lullaby.
Not that I'm avoiding anything, or dreading an event bound to happen, I just...Want to get lost in the moment.
There's nothing perfect about the moment. No special company, not an amazing day that I don't want to end, or an unfulfilled hope for which I want to stretch time.
Tonight, tired and sleepy, I feel distant. This happens every now and then - at the end of the day when I've stopped thinking, stopped reflecting, stopped worrying, stopped planning - just stopped.
Come to think of it, that's probably the perfection of the moment. I am just being. Nothing running through my mind, no task at hand, just nothing. Of course now that's not true. I'm writing now. But it still feels nearly the same.
Do you know the feeling? It feels like being a kid in the backseat of the car. Not a care in the world. Not late for anything. No where to be. Just watching the raindrops race down the window at night, as the street lights blur behind them.
That is the perfection of the moment. The simple bliss of a childhood which ended too soon. I realise that those older than me may consider my age as a part of those blissful years, but even they must agree that childhood goes by in a flash.
As I swing here, reminiscing, the moment ends abruptly. With these thoughts and memories buzzing through my head, I no longer wish that the day not end. A twinge of sorrow seeps through me as the bliss melts away. I lay down and close my eyes, the swing my lullaby.
Very relatable �
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