Seeking. Searching.
Envying.
How beautiful it must be to have lived it the way you did;
You looked breathtaking talking about it—so vivid and true I couldn’t take my eyes off you.
A moment and a place (but mostly a feeling) untouched and allowed to exist and be very odd.
Not standardized or controlled by everything and everyone, like this wandering detachment.
A distant past, something that could no longer exist today.
Something so intimate you were the only one in the world feeling it: and in that moment, it was entirely yours.
Something I can only long for from a distance, not knowing how to enter it; not knowing if the now would allow for such a thing to exist; not knowing if I’ll ever feel the way you felt.
So beautiful.
So distant.
Never truly mine.
This story is part of a collection of poems, short stories and introspective reflections of my creation, called “Grimoire of a Weirdo”.