"An insidiously evil thing . It seems to take hold slowly. The effects not visible until it has gone to the heart. Therein it grows stronger each day feeding on the emotion, and faculties. Then it does a curious thing. At it's height! It starts to ebb away. Day by day, Hour by hour, until it is only a minute thing. Knowing the host can no longer sustain it any longer it starts to leave. Slowly seeking a new victim to start the process again. When this happens whomever had this affliction is left a hollow shell of what they once were. Listen closely, and hear the sighing of the ocean. An ocean of trapped in this little shell. Nothing more than a terrible disease of the mind. Some fight it, others succumb to it. Of the latter some never recover, and others do to become a host again. It is a madness this terrible disease called love."
Last time I was at the airport, I remember, I could pick up my phone and text you, and I knew you'd be there. I would say "I'm bored", and you replied, "Aw, I wish I could be there with you and hold your hand, and kiss you. I'd keep you entertained. Love you :)" One text like that could keep me smiling for hours. Sunday I'll be at the airport again, walking the same long hallways. I know all I would be thinking about is you. And I'm so pathetic, but you can't leave my mind.
Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened everyday and arms that were never for anyone else. But just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes. The Winter of the Air