there is something strange stirring in places i can’t see, and in this obscurity it grows and grows – heavy, suffocating; not a burden, but a weight that presses down on me wherever i go – like i’m moving through water, tired and slow.
it aches from somewhere in my chest – pulsates, almost, a life of its own – and stretches outwards, rooting itself in every part of my body, and more so, my mind, which it occupies mercilessly; relentlessly.
it sits at the back of every thought and although i am not consumed, i am agitated, and nothing i do can make it go away. i can feel it mocking me, and with every glimpse of happiness i catch – two lovers holding hands, a young girl’s head resting on a young boy’s shoulder – i feel it grow stronger; its laughter grows louder.
some might call this loneliness, but i don’t think i’m lonely.
i think i’m just selfish.
this dull, perpetual ache comes from a yearning. i seek something i can’t seem to find – something others seem to have so easily – and i think i’m tired of making an effort. i have certain ideas of what i want others to be; i expect too much of the people i love.
i guess i’ll hole myself up and absorb myself in books, escape to other worlds made of beautiful words and wholly kept promises, and one day, when fate is kind enough to offer me her graces, maybe what i’m looking for – whatever it may be – will somehow find me.
i’ll be patient.
i can wait.
after all, i have my whole life ahead of me.