The city lights are glittering in the distance. A notebook lies on the desk, opened on a page full of scribbles from preparations for tomorrow's test. A glass with a straight double shot of red label Johnnie Walker is still half full but as always with alcohol - it's the empty half (or the reason it's empty) that really makes you feel optimistic.
A trumpet and piano duo fill your ears with some light jazzy tune. Soft warm drowsiness sinks heavily inside you, consuming any energy you had left from this long long day.
And you feel happy. You feel as if you are living in a fantasy you had many years ago. You find it almost hard to believe and at the same time you know that for once in your life - you are exactly where you ought to be, at the right time and the right moment,
And yet... something is.. something is missing. You can't really put your finger on it. You don't even know what it is, or what it's missing from. But you feel it missing.
You know it's out there. You feel it out there, Kind of like a phantom limb. You know that somehow - through the plains of space and time you are connected to that thing that is missing.
But somehow, you can say with almost with almost the same certainty, that you will never find it. Whatever 'it' is. Whatever ties you have with it. It will always be there, and you will always be here.
And that fact burns a hole in your chest. A painful dark acidic hole. This hole will never let you feel at ease. It will always remind you that wherever you are. Whatever you do. You are never whole. Never complete. Always searching. grasping to a phantom link. Drinking liquid optimism. Giving in to music and drowsiness. So close to Nirvana... but always five stars away from heaven.
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