It's the 3rd of November in New Zealand. 11 days before I turn 29. I'm listening to Jaill. Ass naked, dripping wet. Lonely but never alone. In a bed that's not mine, in a country that's not mine, yet, in a world that seems perfectly fit for me right now. Crazy about someone that surely dosen't know it; crazy for anyone that ignores me. Wrapped up in ideas of a fruitful future. Always thinking of ways to leave. Always thinking of being in love with the moment, yet running away as fast as I can; thinking of the past before it ever happens; imagining the future that will never be. However, there is this very strange feeling in me. I want to stay here. I want a pattern. For once. I want to just focus on not fleeting. Or maybe, maybe I actually have a clear focus on how to be successful at continuously fleeting.To keep leaving everything behind withouth losing everything. To run, but to never lose my breath. To love, but to never feel lose.
Is this growing old? Is this wisdom?
Or is this losing your mind?
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