Definitely not what I was asking for.

(Written while listening to this)

I haven’t seen the stars in years.

Ever since I was 5, I haven’t lived somewhere with clear skies. It’s most likely that I live somewhere opposite of it. With tall buildings and blinding LED lights on billboards, I’d be lucky to spot a few on the night sky at clear nights. They look less like a cluster of bright lights and more like few, stray glowing dots on a sky that’s not exactly completely dark either.

Still, I look at the sky in awe, every time.

Once in a while, I go somewhere far; far enough from home. Once in a while I go somewhere with clearer night skies, and I’d go outside when it’s dark and just stand there, and stare at the sky. I’d look at the cluster of stars and not think of anything else. I’d think about how small we are. I’d think about how beautiful they look, and how far away they must be from us.

The sight will leave me completely breathless, every time.

I haven’t felt this way in years.

Things haven’t been bad, it’s just been alright. Just alright. I’ve been trapped in mostly routine; routine I cannot find happiness in. It made me sad to think that people used to talk about how passionate I was about the things I like. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find it anymore. That spark I feel whenever I talk about the things I’m interested in, that same energy. That joy.

And then, you.

I’ve always been using cliche metaphors about the skies and stars and the celestial, heavenly bodies ever since I started writing, and sure it gets old now, but I cannot describe it with anything better than this: You are what I feel whenever I gaze at the night sky. So far away, so distant, so remote. But I know that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Perhaps it’s why this feels like soaring at the skies. Thousands of feet above the ground, you’re slightly dizzy and your heart is racing faster than it ever has before. You’re also losing consciousness because oxygen levels in the air deplete when you get to a certain height.

I’m not sure where I wanted to go with that metaphor.

Well, I’m sure you’ll also leave me completely breathless, every time. Just not from oxygen deprivation.

(Honestly, though. I absolutely hate feeling like this, but I also kind of miss this? Lim mistaking obsession with admiration, once again. Nothing new, nothing new.)



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