Wanting
It’s Saturday night. Lights out. I’ve pulled up my window blinds. There is a slight breeze as I plop myself together, my head against the sill gazing into the darkness. The sky lights up as the occasional planes silently whizz by.
Why are we so enamoured by what the future holds? I can’t help but think, when the present can be so calm.
I see the surrounding lights flicker — the neighbors are ready to turn in for the night.
My mind is wandering, the breeze fueling my brain. I think of my exes or lack of them. Yearning intimacy but I know I’m more than enough. There is power in the coldness of the night. Feeling confident in my own skin, proud of the scars from the past. I reminisce them with pride.
It’s just the stars and me tonight — feeling, believing, seeing. There is too much air traffic. Someone pulled out from their driveway. The night is still young.
There is music blasting in my ears but I’m calm. No voices in my head to make sense of. It’s freeing.
My fingers perched on the window net. The dust brushing against my palm. The rousing fragrance of the night lingering in the air.
I ask myself again and the answer is clear. What I want more than anything is to live in this moment.
