Thick, like day-old coffee, my head feels fuzzy, but I know the words are in there somewhere. They float around my mind so freely and yet when I come face to face with this big, blank screen I just freeze and close the tab, close my eyes. I’m tired. I can’t remember what it feels like to just sit and have no place to rush to, and yet wasn’t I just sitting on a beach a mere two weeks ago with nothing to do but read my book and watch the waves? Why then, does it all feel like a dream? Like it never actually happened? When I reached Singapore after eight days of blissful relaxation in the jungle and on the beaches of Bali, my friend commented on how ‘zen’ I seemed. Calm. Still. Content.
Now, with a cup of black coffee sat in front of me (only my third coffee in my entire life!), I frantically try and find that girl. The one who woke up smiling with the rise of the sun, the one who fell asleep to the sound of the waves and the beat of the drum. The one who had no worries, only dreams and opportunities lying just around the corner. Is she hiding under the autumn leaves, or has she disappeared forever? Was she just a figment of our imagination? Is it actually possible to feel that calm? I crave it. The restful nights, the soft dreams, the sunshine, the fruits, the patience that never lingered, was always present. I crave it all.
This fog will lift soon. It always does. And in those lighter moments, when this haze miraculously evaporates, I will feel calm again, even amongst the beeps and horns and lights that vibrate throughout this city everyday non stop and all night long.