in the car on the way home it was around 12:30 in the morning, i felt that creeping dread return, the kind that made my stomach churn (not from the food, the food from the christmas dinner at my uncle’s was great), making it hard to breathe. i was looking out of the window singing along to natalie imbruglia’s torn but since i was more familiar to one direction’s cover of that song from four years ago, i got all the pronouns opposite. i was looking at all the places we passed by to get home and they were all buildings and roads that i’ve been passing by almost everyday for nearly two decades, but all i could think of were late night adventures in the busy streets of the city and driving down wonderfully empty highways. they all felt so surreal, as surreal as i’d felt it at that very moment, like a scene from a really good book or movie that i’d read or watched years ago and thought to myself, “this is my ultimate dream. but this kind of things don’t actually happen in real life.”
there is a quote: “i was already obsessed with the idea that the experience of any sensation is accompanied by the knowledge of its impermanence. the very fact of my noticing any particular pleasure or pain meant that the moment had passed.” i always put quotes because i can’t quite seem to articulate what i feel accurately enough. it’s embarrassing to admit that i struggle to find the right words, so quoting other people seems easier and hits the nail right on the head anyway.
i should be writing other things, putting my words to better use than writing about my nonsensical emotions on this blog over and over again. but that’s the thing about writing: you can never use up your quota of words as long as you live. you can exhaust even your own feelings, but words will always be there, should you ever need them. and i always need them.