Feel alive

Oh, how I love being high. The kind caused by liquor. The ‘drunk on life itself’ kind of high doesn’t come to me all that often.

That warm feeling as the rum settles down into your stomach. You feel the air around your face heating up and a flush rising up to your eyebrows. A beautiful cosy feeling of happiness that hugs you and lulls you into believing that everything is going to be so goooddd and you just need to sit back and relax. More alcohol, please.

Then it begins to work its magic on your organs, one by one. It’ll loosen your tongue right up, fire up the no-nonsense neurons of your brain and rattle your humor cells till they burst out in the silliest ways possible.

It’s like time itself slows down. If a friend keeps blabbing on about work pressures, when you’re sober it may bore the shit out of you. But when the world is a blur and time hangs suspended from the ceiling, you do not even realise how long you’ve been thinking and day dreaming about that guy you think you love but can never really end up with.

You realise you have extraordinary persuasion skills and somehow when you’re that high you manage to convince your friend to go to the beach with you in the middle of the night. You get to act the part of the lone artist who keeps alternating between thoughts like death and suicide and depression, and sudden rapturous glee when you watch the waves form in little ripples scurried along by the breeze to join hands across the shoreline and come crashing onto the beach. The sound makes you think of your own life crashing around yourself and the reasons you started drinking in the first place.

You want this feeling to last forever. You’re floating on your own cloud and don’t want that bubble to burst. You can spend hours lost within a moment, wordlessly admiring the sound of the waves echoes in the numbed recesses of your brain, and the feeling of soft sand melting underneath bare feet as the tide swallows the waves into its darkness. All you want is to treasure these ‘I feel alive’ moments with such precision and detail that it can never be filtered or pixelated to a lesser level of happiness than you presently feel.

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Wanderlust

I hope you forgive me
Each time I go
Chasing moments
Making memories
That are just mine

As I tread these solitary paths
I wish to create some imaginary ones
To retrace in my later years
As boulevards for my nostalgia

I hope you forgive me
When I hop far and wide
Trying to dodge
the reaches of society,
nursing my wanderlust,
alone.

Like the horizon waiting in earnest
For the orange rays of the setting sun
I come full circle
and merge into myself
Lost, submerged in the splendor
of each caress, each breath of nature,
And the wonder of feeling so alive.