I miss being out there, you know. I miss feeling the strong breeze as I ride shotgun in someone's car, closing my eyes as I picture a movie scene. I miss being in the dark with a stranger with that fear and anxiety running through my veins. I miss getting drunk in a club at 3 AM, waiting for someone to take me home. I miss kissing familiar lips in an unfamiliar room, and wanting to stay like that forever. I miss being out there, you know. I miss getting my self in trouble. I miss doing all the things my mom warned me not to. I miss falling in love and getting my heart broken. I miss being out there, seeing and feeling all the fucked up words I could turn into poetry or something close to that. I miss being able to write about all of it like it was the best thing that could happen in the worst times of my life.
–Myka M. Obinque
Photo: @sara_sabatino (IG)