He Feels Like An Adventure

“He feels like an adventure,” I told my friends.

He feels like the euphoria of a drunken night under city lights. He’s that feeling that washes over me as I gaze up into the night, catching sight of the tops of city skyscrapers that are glued to concrete streets. He is the essence of chaos and familiarity as he pulls my hand with his fingers, intertwining them as proximity thins and lips meet. He’s the incandescent glow of endless yellow and blue tinted bulbs, stretching on for miles across the horizontal and vertical scales of the city that match the warm glow emitting from my chest when he looks at me. The lights become bokeh and sounds of the screaming city fade, leaving nothing but the isolated focus of one another’s being as distance closes between us. He feels like the chaos of passing taxis, car horns, and the shouts of strangers. Yet in the midst of the disorder, everything feels grounded because he is there, holding me down with the weight of his eyes that mimic the needed sense of security that coincides with yearn for experience. He feels like a whirlwind of new opportunities that have blown in from a gust of night air. He breezes in through an open door and pushes away any brewing sense of worry, loneliness, or boredom. He feels exciting yet comfortable just as every street corner I round presents something new yet so damn familiar.

He feels like the giddiness of a dance in the rain on a quiet sidewalk lining the street of a small town. He is the flashing of red, yellow, and green from a nearby traffic light, bouncing off of the reflection of translucent puddles. He is the feeling of crisp, cool, and fresh air that exhales any kind of worry or sense of doubt into the nearby metal drain. He’s the sound of laughter that reverberates from my chest because it is too full of adoration to confine itself to such a small space within my lungs. It’s the burning of his hands against my hips as feelings spread through me like a wildfire as I move and spin around the street with guided motion as he makes sure I don’t get too far ahead. Droplets of water fall from heavy strands of my hair and nearby concrete store overhangs, pounding similarly into the pavement as my heart threatens to burst at the seams. His lips feel light like the night air, forming chill bumps across the back of my soaked neck as they meet with mine. Like the condensation, he washes away my negative feelings, replacing them with emotions he radiates related to comfort, passion. and disposition. He moves with grace yet caution, holding my fragile heart with careful fingertips because he’s sure of what he’s doing but we both hold a similar fear of tripping over our own two feet.

He feels like a car ride with the windows down on a warm and sunny day where the wind billows lose locks and rinses a sense of serotonin over closed eyes in the form of sun rays and soft kisses placed onto the top of my hand. He sounds like my favorite song that I hum softly from the passenger seat as it wraps its atmosphere of comfort around me like a blanket. I know that he played this song just for me because of the way I can see him glancing at me from behind the wheel through the corner of my eyes, a glimmer in his and a smile playing on his rose-tinted lips. He is the season of summer air, where the only concern is where the nearest water source or ice cream shop is located. He feels like your hand out of the car window, waving in the wind, completely oblivious to any kind of structured commitment other than its purpose to simply live and bounce carelessly.

He is equivalent to a venture through a field of Monarch butterflies, only the field resides in the pit of my stomach. Each motion causes thousands of them to take flight within me, fluttering through the veins under my skin and bursting out of the grass with passion. He pops with color yet connects with a unique pattern, creating one of the most beautiful eyesights that one could ever observe. He lands carefully onto me, my heart racing with the fear that I will disturb his peaceful nature but he stays briefly before continuing on to his own personal goal.

Adventures offer a unique experience to each individual. They carry enthusiasm, risk, and all great things, yet they also carry the unknown and the inevitability of an end. Adventures hold the possibility of greatness, hope, and freshness. But, they also hold fear and the threat of being one of the worst experiences you encounter.

Yet you’ll never know how your adventure goes if you never say, “Yes, let’s do this.” You’ll never know how your adventure goes if you never have the bravery to get in the car or to get on the plane and head off into what could be one of the most incredible experiences of life. There is no adventure until you create one for yourself.

“He feels like an adventure,” I told my friends, because I believe that he is.