Vanilla chamomile tea.
Nostalgia at its finest. Winter. But not cold, warmth. I feel blankets. Your body warmth. Soft shirts. Softer lips. Warm kisses. Heater hands. Darkness, because the clouds omit the sun, but my curtains omitted the light. Hot chocolate. Good movies. The way my room smelled when I had that huge heater running all day. The weight of the room, because it made my room 80 degrees and the air was heavy. Sleepy eyes.
Laughter. Uncaring. Simplicity at the best. The simple things in life are the best, if you ever ask me. I was overwhelmed by love. Yes, overwhelmed. Because sometimes I could feel it rushing inside and it would make me cry lightly. And I would say, "I'm so happy". And it was euphoric. Because "I love you" never felt like enough. And it wasn't.
Light heartedness. So light I could float like a feather and land on water and not leave any ripples. Where did the ripples go? A lifetime passes and I can't trace it back. Sometimes you become the anchor. Sometimes no one pulls you back up, either. And you learn how to swim.