Sometimes life felt like fever dream.

A beautiful fantasy of delusion and colour, with a constant thump-thump accompanying you. Your heart sang an off tune song. And if you opened your chest, you'd see that three hearts are beating, but which one is the truth?

Which one followed the invisible strings that tied you three to one another in this intricate web of life, where loud voices boomed, waves crashed against the shoreline, neon lights bathed the city at night and long lost souls chased one another? Who were you chasing? What were you seeking?

Was it the feeling they offered? Could such an inexplicabile joy of just being by someone's side be put into mere words, or did it transcend into something more? Perhaps some things just didn't need names or logical explanations, especially when it was something so, so beautiful and alive. Something only yours, something no one else could ever understand. Something that may not live forever, but lives now. Was love too big or too small of a word for it?

In the night, where you felt at home or in the early dawn when the mockingbirds sang, in the afternoon the streets swarmed with oceans of people, you always chased them. And they chased you. You didn't have to know, of course, and neither did they. The threads of fate were often weaved and tugged in unpredictable ways.

Ways that led to you once again sit down between them on your usual bench near the seaside. All was well. Those three hearts were still beating.