Drive

Driving back and forth over and over again. Pushing the limits, soaking deep in ambivalent feelings of joy, need and responsibility; whatever that may mean.

For a moment, a short moment, I feel complete. I honestly believe that everything that is happening to me at the moment is as good as it gets, it's so close to perfect.

Still, I'm tempted. What about a different place, a different city, a different job. A different point of view. A different girl by my side. Don't settle, Jobs famously said, though I doubt this is what he meant.

I drive and am driven and I just cannot get enough. Would I not be around for much longer, I could always exit knowing it was an intense fun.

And drive, it's such a great metaphor.

Shivering

A year ago, I was sitting on the bench overlooking the city and slightly shivering; it wasn't a cold night, it was this beautiful creature sitting next to me, sharing the bench and extraordinary moments of closeness with my wonder-struck self.

I'd love her, I'd love her till the end of my days, oh God, I would, would she let me, would she wanted me to.

For months, I hoped she was hesitating, and maybe she really was. My brain cells still scream of pain and lust I went through; the most technicolor experience of my life, far better than any drug I ever tasted.

Then, one day, I finally woke up. Rejecting love — though it's just love in waiting — was brutal. Man, was I hurt, stabbing myself, cutting my veins, murdering my hopes and dreams. Seeing her was like burning in hell, yet still nothing like not seeing her; the torture seemed to be everlasting. Have anybody heard my silent screams? Have anybody noticed my invisible tears?

Few more months have passed until I slightly and painfully found my way around agony I was more dying than living through.

A year has passed and I'm still not cured. Yet I've buried my distress deep inside and we hardly come across each other these days anymore. I live, I laugh and I go on feeling stronger than ever.

Lunch?, a message pops in while I'm already eating. A thousand kilometers away. With somebody else.

And I'm still shivering.

Autumn swing

I smell autumn in the air. It's an early evening, I've just left the office. Left the car at home this morning so I could go out tonight and not hold back. The sharp sun is quickly setting. It's not cold yet — though one can smell what's to come.

A bus stop. No one can see it, I realise. No one! Everybody's mesmerised by their mobiles. The large hot bulb is shining right at them and they don't care. Should they?

It's no better on the subway: if it's not a mobile than it's certainly a Kindle or iPad. Am I any better? No, I'm not — but I've been trying. Hard.

Got rid of Facebook. Stopped tweeting. Instagram is left in the dark, too.

Meeting people instead is ambitious. Lunches, dinners, drinks. Even emails seem old-fashioned. Funny how fast the world evolves.

Thirty minutes left till my next meeting. Walking in a park, trainspotting, taking occasional moody photos I won't share with anybody.

I feel slightly displaced. But hey, those feelings subside as I kiss her neck gently when falling asleep. This has always worked for an autumn swing.