I am drunk with them.
Over my head.
In love with them.
They fill up my every minute.
They fill up my head.
On Monday, when I leave them again, after a long weekend together, I can’t concentrate. I can’t focus.
I literally feel like I’m drunk, sitting at my desk, at the office, trying to string two sentences together. To write about something other than them. It’s impossible.
When all I want to do is return to them.
To the songs they sing, this other world they live in. And that I live in when I’m with them.
And how I can’t live in the other world. Now that I’ve known this one.