Swingforce

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It’s strange, how a feeling can both lift you and drown you at the same time.

I call it swingforce — that pulse that starts somewhere deep in the chest, travels up to your head, and refuses to leave.

Loving someone, perhaps blindly, feels like that.
It’s wrong, maybe. I know it’s wrong.
But the more I tell myself to stop, the more my mind circles back to them, like gravity that ignores logic.
Like the body remembering a rhythm the soul never agreed to dance to.

There are moments that pump this heart faster and the beats become harder; a text, a glance, a memory.
Each time it happens, there’s this rush, almost like adrenaline; thrilling, dangerous, addictive.
It’s not love in its purest form; it’s love tangled with chaos, maybe even guilt.
Tapi anehnya, justru di sanalah letak swingforce itu bekerja.
It’s not just emotion, it’s sensation. 

It floods the brain, hijacks the heart, and whispers, “Just one more time.”

Sometimes I wonder, is this what being alive feels like?
Or am I just addicted to the high of feeling something so wrong yet so real?
Maybe swingforce isn’t meant to be understood only felt.
Because no matter how I rationalise it, the feeling wins. 

Every. Single. Time.

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