Hooked on a Feeling

​I messed up and fell in love with a feeling. It’s as nonchalant and auspicious as it sounds, loving a feeling, not just a person.

Falling for feeling is this emotional journey, a rollercoaster of ups and downs and whispers to yourself, wondering if you have gone insane. You may have, which ends up being fine until you can’t explain it because It’s overwhelming. 

You spend your time with eyes closed remembering the warm embrace of that feeling, that all-consuming breath of fresh air that filled your lungs after years of stagnant, shallow breaths. Your heart feels full, your eyes are bright, and you just feel this irrepressible need to smile as wide as you can because you are filled to the brim with a happiness you only tasted once or twice. You feel it thawing your cool, dark corners, ironing out your creased edges, clearing out the corners you sat in too long without this life-saving touch of magic. 

And it’s addictive.

You spend your life chasing that happiness high. It’s when you continually fall short; you’ll lap up any little drop you can get in the hopes of remembering that one time when happiness completed you. 

You’ll research, you will look in every person's eyes for arhat light, search their hugs for that chest-expanding pressure but end up getting frustrated with human touch when nothing ignites that tiny flame.

You keep on breathing your shallow breaths, gulping in the stale air with your tight chest, hoping to fill your crumbling facade with a passable amount of lackluster joy.

In hopes of holding out for that feeling, you felt only so many times before, like an addict at the alter waiting for that one little fix of pure joy of human existence.