Sometimes, it honestly feels like I am in the wild–I’m not sure what I’m going to see. The thought of a new adventure sends an adrenaline rush kind of feeling that excites and thrills me. But at the same time, the fear of the unknown is also lurking at the back of my mind.
But most of the time, what I like about it the most is getting the same sense of relaxation that you get when you’re out lying on the sand sunbathing; the soothing calmness of sitting on your patio with a book on one hand and coffee on the other; that peaceful feeling when your mind is free from any kind of worry.
After all was said and done, it’s that lingering stillness that keeps haunting me. It’s not even when I think about all the good times that we shared, or the bad times that we had. It’s that quiet moment when I wake up in the morning that makes the loudest noise; it’s that state of being anxiously aware of the clock ticking away at night.
It’s the emptiness I feel when everything and everyone are all gone–a hollow void in my mind, or my soul, or my heart–I can’t seem to pinpoint. It’s when I want to feel something but am unable to, maybe because of subconscious suppression or from becoming numb, I don’t know.