wanderlust

To The Man Who Loved To Live Dangerously

Photography by Karen Rosetzsky

Photography by Karen Rosetzsky

I’ve always desired to be your co-pilot. When you cruise at 140+kph while everyone else is asleep. I want to laugh with you while passing by other drivers, swerving back and forth in their lane and seemingly asleep while driving, and honk the horn to wake them.

You love to live menacingly.

You tell me stories of times when you and your other friends float into a different subconscious level of the mind when THC runs through your veins. I tried to experience them with just how my imagination works without actually doing it so I can be at your shoes.

You love to live menacingly.

Photography by Karen Rosetzsky

Photography by Karen Rosetzsky

When we took that trip to the beach, despite being restless, we walked from shallow to deep waters, climbed through rocks, uncertain of the path we’re taking. I trusted you, because it was your world I want to uncover. You didn’t know though, that my world is you.

You love to live menacingly.

You stay up really late most of the nights and tell me sleep is for the weak. At times I stay outside your home and I just want to yell, ‘Do it tomorrow, let’s rest’, so you’d turn off the lights and stop on what you’re working with and get to sleep. But then, I don’t want you to find out I’m always there.

You love to live menacingly

You embrace all the blame to yourself when mistakes inevitably fall, you dwell on being alone at rough times, and try to carry on the heavy rusty nails just so you won’t cause distress to others. Sometimes you just dust it off as if a stain will be removed by just doing that. And I can only cry for you from afar.

Photography by Karen Rosetzsky

Photography by Karen Rosetzsky

You love to live menacingly.

For some reason I believed that you no longer want to stay long. You talk of death like it’s another adventure you have to take. You think you have a fast-paced life and speed is your poison. And I badly want to do something, but I can’t. Because even in each single day that I try to stop you from digging your grave, you drown yourself more. Still, I want to shine a light in that deep, dark hole in you.

You love to live dangerously. And if I can’t let you stay out of it, at least let me stay too. So you can still live the way you want to, but fun and not alone.

Written by Aurielle Lilianne Morada