I find myself again in that place where the fog is melting and I can recognize my face again in the countless things that fly in and out of existance. There's nothing frightning me more than losing consciousness, not being able to think or take a decision without being at ease with my mind. I need to feel as if there's nothing disturbing the process I go through when taking a decision. Otherwise I feel that my actions have been corrupted by whatever stole my perfect and profound conscience away, be it fatigue, sadness, guilt or all. It's like a virus. I need to heal my mind before I can trust myself.
And nothing scares me more than it. Not even stillness, boredom or solitude.
I find myself again and it's perfect, because I feel balanced.
And I finally found a book that makes me thrill.
And I smile at the thought of being alone, wrapped in my most precious and intimate thoughts and pieces of imagination that take flight from my dreams.
I can lightly touch the lives of those around me and I can make them smile.
And I'm so close behind you that I can hear your steps, but I don't fret, I know we'll end up home together in the last.
And I love the freezing mornings and the hot coffees and the gloomy frosty evenings with the perfumed steams of tea filling the air around us, while we enjoy our imperfect silence.
And even though we have troubles and things that need fixing and hearts that need mending, we laugh and talk and don't sleep till 3 am, ignoring the movie we were set to see, ignoring the music we were set to listen to, ignoring all the messages and calls from the people that miss us or need us or want something from us. They are not here, so we don't care.
I feel somehow spoiled, as if there's a part of me that feels I do not deserve these small moments of perfection. But then I look at those I share them with. And they do deserve them, so I guess we're just lucky we found each other. We're not special, we're not blessed, we're just together and happy about it.