My Own Little Escape

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Michelle. Scottie. 19. Maltese.

Sometimes, as humans, the first chance we get at happiness, we grasp it and hold on tight onto it without asking any questions and enjoy the ride, to wherever it may take us. But sometimes, we have actual time to thing and we start questioning ourselves if this is the right thing, if what we’re doing makes any sense at all. If it is for us. If it’s going to sink. If we acted too irrational. If we’ve lost ourselves by getting too caught up in it all. 

Sitting at my desk at 2.33am in the morning, not even any sign of tiredness, or a hint of a yawn, I look back at the past month, where a whirl wind of things have happened and I’m questioning myself, “what the hell am I doing?”. At that precise moment where I am alone, I start questioning things and I am not sure if it’s an old habit of over thinking - not digesting that something really good is happening right now - or if something is wrong. I don’t wish to think that my shot at happiness once again is tainted. I like to think that I genuinely found something good, but the thoughts that haunt me at this hour of the night cannot be shaken off. I was supposed to sit down and study, but I couldn’t until I wrote these words here. I guess after being on a fast train for sometime, you need to stop for a bit and take it all in, process it, chew it over and think it through. I don’t want to hurt him though, and I’m afraid that I just might. 

Sitting in my bed going through my year old playlist and stuck on one particular song. On a day like this, cloudy - with a hint of sunshine here and there - I reminisce on what was happening a year ago. I was a lost girl, taking on any adventure that came her way to escape reality and one person in particular was that entire escape. The song, gives me flash backs and not only in visions of past memories but also in smell and taste. The smell of cigarettes, beer and that perfume he wore, which tingled my nostrils and gave an odd taste in my mouth. It was strange, but somewhat comforting. His beard felt weird at first but added comfort, that I was in the arms of a man and not a boy. The way he sat in the armchair next to me, holding his beer on one lap and deeply inhaling the cigarette I gave him. Exhaling it slowly and watching the smoke he produced drift up in thin air. How his voice lowered in a raspy tone when his face was right in front of mine, while cupping my face in his hands.
That one song - all those details. Longing to go back again to that time, because it was a time when my escape made me happy, made my insides flutter. When that lost girl, managed to find happiness.