I don’t feel common at all. I feel alive, invigorated, young. The car goes too fast with the spirit of my youth. The cool night air streaming through my car whips away the smoke of my cigarette. Smoking while driving is dangerous, deadly even, but no one cares. I don’t. I’m invincible anyway.
In just one week, I will see my love again. Just the thought gives me energy, lets me continue. I will feel her arms around me, so hot they bring tears to my eyes. I will smell the warm smoothness of her neck as we embrace. I will feel the hairs on my neck move as she whispers her love in my ear, and I shiver in anticipation. I don’t feel common.
In just one week, I will see my family again. The origins of my being. I will hear their excitement and look into their eyes to try to remember their depth. They will radiate all the hopes and dreams and expectations and goals that they desire for me, and I will bask in that glow and shoulder the heavy burden of their words. I will not feel common then either.
In one week, I will fly. Soar effortlessly over the clouds and tear out of the sky to roll to a stop in a new but familiar place. It will take exactly 1.5 hours for me to do this. This seems impossible, but it is quite common. Still, as my body begins to ascend to the heavens, I will not feel common.
In a week, I will stand on the edge of a continent. I will battle Nature herself, and inevitably lose. But I will call it a draw, and feel as though none can best me. I will feel the wind in my hair and be at peace. I will not feel common.
I feel this way rather a lot, actually.
No comments:
Post a Comment