Fresh Air.

Sometimes when I'm driving my car
And I'm on the freeway
100 km/h
I like to open the window
Feel the air blowing my hair
Entering my left ear
Hitting my face with cold particles of Idon'tknowwhat
The noise
Oh, the noise it makes
So strong, the wind so strong
It's definitely created out of speed
Or out of everything?
I don't care
Because it makes me feel good
It makes me feel alive
Fresh air, I just need fresh air.

The Window.

You were so broken up. I could see the tears coming down your cheeks, even with a window in between blurring my view.
I was sitting in the back of one car, you were sitting in the back of another. In fact, I'm not sure you were sitting. You were more like lying down facing me, your back against the door, legs completely straight, left one on top of the right one.
Both cars raced, left lane, right lane, and I got to see your sad face and your sad body. I put my hand on the window just like in the movies, when a visitor in a prison puts the hand on the glass window to try to feel the convict's hand. So close and yet so far away.
I was trying to touch your face so that I could clean up your tears, but I couldn't. It hurt that you hurt so much. I knew what you were going through because you told me about it, remember?
We were chatting online and you told me how sad you were, how you wished and hoped it would have worked out but it didn't. The helplessness I felt then, that's how I felt in that car.

I'm glad it was just a dream.
I really am here to help.

p.s. Things will get better.

xoxo
Cuca