The city belongs to those who accept and appreciate every inch of it. The city belonged to us that night.
I wanted to freeze that moment; bookmark the page and reread it whenever I feel like losing myself.
It was one of those nights where I was so terrified for it to end, terrified for it to slip from my fingertips. I was so happy, so content, and so alive. I could spend hours on that rooftop, talking about everything, and singing along to my favorite songs. I felt like I was living the verses, living a scene from a movie. The busy city slowed down and became our’s. There wasn’t a soul in sight. The streets belonged to us, the lights belonged to us, and the buildings called our names. And then just like that, it ended. The sun rose and the world kept going. Our laughter turned to yawns and my bright eyes began to fade. And with everything else, the magic disappeared too. For the first time in my life, I was already missing a feeling, missing a moment, while I was living in it.
It became a memory: A memory I wish I could drown in, a memory I wish I could escape back to, but I can’t. It’s out of reach now.
We can keep pieces and bits of it, but never the whole thing. Never the night itself or the feelings that went with it; Our adventure, our experience, and our memory belongs to the city now.