thoughts: home

"Thoughts of this person you are feel foreign."

Have you ever had this feeling where you are sitting so still, so quiet and all you can hear is this inner throbbing against your mind. You are lounging in your bedroom, in the middle of browsing The New York Times absentmindedly, your legs in the air, kicking ever so lazily.  And all of a sudden this feeling washes over you. With no awareness of where it comes from.  This feeling of not being at home. At home within your body, foreign in your own skin.

How did I get here? I was just at the sweet naive age of 15. 15, when I thought the world reached only the tips of my fingers. 15, when I spent my lazy weekend afternoons hiding in my closet, reading comics. 15, when summers meant Mister Softee jingle and vivid sunsets. 15, when I first broke someone's heart and broke a bit of mine. 15, when I first got scared of love.

For a minute you think you are in a dream. Stuck between the past and present. Peeking into both worlds that does not feel quite right at the moment. "Was I really there?" "Am I really here?" Questions that lay on top of your heart like a lover's hand, gentle but weighted. Then the moment is gone. The feeling washes over. Fleeting like a bittersweet dream. Already forgetting the beginning, just catching the glimpse of the end.