we are more than we are

Summer sunsets at home.

I sat on the edge of my bed, cross-legged, with all the windows opened. With my back straight and regular deep breaths, I felt calm. Composed, present. Soft, fresh breeze caressed my hair and I kept taking long sips from a water bottle. The sunset in front of me was mesmerizing. In my mind, a long list of gratitude formed. I reached a certain degree of nirvana. I haven’t been able to keep my mind still the last few weeks; anxiety seeps into my evenings, especially the ones when I am alone. Everything always seems different at night. Tiny panic attacks that grip at my heart and I wake up in sweat at four o’clock in the morning, seemingly without a reason. But I know there is one. There is always a reason. The question of death and being left alone has been bothering me since that Monday a few weeks back. I can’t form the words quick or well enough to voice them when I am in the company of people. Maybe someone could say something in return that would soothe me. I’ve never been good at saying the right things at the right time. Always some meaning somewhere that is nearly impossible to catch by those who don’t know me. But that night; that moment on my bed — I was completely alone, physically and in my head. We are one. Nothing was missing. Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. I want those moments to be part of my life the way a tiny cup of espresso is. I want, I want, I want. Except you can’t always get what you want.