Narrative-Night Creative Writing

I guess I felt myself becoming attached to the feeling. The feeling of how that in that moment, I began wanting to reminisce it, even though I was already living it. I could breathe without any worry right then. Every loose and frayed string connected inside of me. Feeling the soft, brisk wind, of a late August night, running through the absence of occupied space between my fingers. As far as I could throw my hands up, the floated in the air above the topless car roof. The wind rushed like wild through my loosely braided hair. Lounging with both feet up on the dash, singing the “greatest country of the early two thousands” at the top of my lungs, I looked beside and behind me. I wanted to bottle up this feeling, and it showed when I smiled

I guess that’s just how I am. I like what the early night brings, no matter where I am. I like that night provides silence to take a breath. “Anything to escape” was the only thought that was on replay in my brain. It had been a long week full of planning and emotionally draining work and all I wanted was some time off from the noise. All it took was a drive.
So we just drove. We drove an hour away. Drove with people that I could spend the rest of my life laughing with. Driving with the top of the car down, hands up. We drove with the music as loud as it can go. We drove to find the space to breathe that has been missing for the longest time. I may not have been lacking anything but I found something that night. I found that sometimes not having a plan is okay. I found that it is okay to let loose and put your feet up. Most importantly, I found that to take a step forward, a step back needs to come first.
After that realization the feeling that had struck that windy night, everyday life does not seem so bad. It does not seem so bad when I am not asphyxiating on the clamoring of the hustle that ordinary days bring. The cycle still may be spinning but, at least I can breathe in between the turning. I have a little breathing space