She was seeing through me. That she never knew; I never admitted that she had conquered me. I feared that she would consider me such a fragile work of art. I did consider myself a peculiar person. “You are a rare species, your mind is always locked, unknown, twisted”, she said. I was gazing her temptingly. I took a deep breath desiring to complain on her statement. In a split of a second I exhaled back as if I never meant to say a word. In that moment I realized she was right.
He moved his body a little bit further from me, enough to kill my noisy thoughts and bring me back to that moment.
I had to sleep because that was the only thing that I could to at that moment. What if I tried to depress myself even more? It would have been such a futile thing. I wished for a dream that won’t be my guillotine and so I had…
The sky is cloudy and the black widow surprises me with her serendipity and negligence of the revengeful heavens. The city lights are blurry, reflecting as murderous shadows on the glassy windows. The autumn leaves seem all blackish now, same pattern and nuance. The pine trees are moody because their children are gone and the dirty water of the rain has sickened them. Somehow, those pines trees can resemble to the viridian man. His seedy provision has the same effect on my disposition. Even if it is a fact well known, I cannot accept it. I wish his branches could expand more on my thoughtful mind and answer to my pitiful questions. I am being conquered and pestered by every possible word that can come out of his mouth.
The walls around me are whitish and the furniture seems nothing like luxury. The mattress has no sheets on it and the floor is cold. The window is half opened. I can see the wildness of the human souls pondering on the streets; some indecisive, others lighthearted.
The viridian man was still wearing his impersonal mask. His lips won’t curve into a smile and his eyes won’t show any annoyance. Some may say that hiding what’s torturing you is the only armor that can protect you from the untamed world. I might agree but in the viridian man’s case I fear he excesses the use of this lethal drug.
The lights faded away in the darkness that the moon preserved by hiding behind the navy clouds. The driver was shady, filled with some kind of anxiety or distress that I avoided to ask about. Perhaps the answer would not serve my appetite so I preferred my own exigent thoughts. The moments of happiness that I felt were less than any other emotion that dominated in my soul. But don’t take me wrong gentlemen, I was not unhappy or anxious like him. On the contrary, I felt ecstatically good. The road continued its’ curvy way. Every now and then it filled me with fear but that was too unimportant to even bother concentrating on it. The blurry thoughts stopped while encountering a specific face which pondered through me like a hurricane. Catastrophic or not, I had him in my mind once again, feeling the same sweet disturbance as always. And then, there was the other one, a she wolf. What did she want? Why again? Our conversation stressed me. I did not know whether she meant good or evil. Then the night became lighter as the moon showed her darling shadow and I was back on my reality. The driver’s hand hugged my knee while his lips were imploring for one more kiss. I would not be rude. Eventually I had to move on even if I didn’t want to, because every kiss I served him was too unrealistic for that cruel reality I got myself into.
I wonder what tonight will bring upon me. The cold whether hurts me and the moon is once again hidden. All I can see is a reflection of my insecure lying self which wishes to see those feverish eyes that misses.
There was no warmth anymore. There was only fire, the kind of burning and revengeful fire, and I wondered whether life wanted to say something to me or it was just time to stop playing with it. The second theory begs for approval, first in line in my mind. You see; sometimes people tend to make the worse out of a situation and we become revengeful with ourselves for someone else’s mistakes because we think we deserve it or just because we lost something that used to make us better humans. Perhaps that is what I am doing now. I have made consciously the worst of decisions and let people in my life make it more complicated. Have I become feverishly nonsensical? They say that when you wear an armour or a mask you should be careful not to lose yourself in it. Now I know they’re right.
It’s just ( and yes, “just”, because any other word would be unfit and too sophisticated for my current mentality) messy how people knock the door of your heart after leaving without saying a simple reason, possibly expecting you to open your arms and welcome them back warmly. You cannot do that even if it is what you desire most. Do not misunderstand me. I am in favour of second chances, sometimes maybe thirds , but no more. So perhaps that knock on my door disturbed my inner peace, if there was any lately, which I would doubt but still, I thought I had it all under control, I had all emotions turned off, or at least the parts that I wanted to forget for a while.
Obviously gentlemen my theories turned against me and the armour I equipped myself with became flesh of my own flesh. Isn’t it funny how life rolls gentlemen? Or it is not funny at all and the disturbance I feel makes every normal emotion that I should be feeling worthless of living inside me…
P.S. Or maybe I’m “a Bukowski” and there is nothing to be done but live in the sweetness of addictions.
If I knew, if only I had some knowledge of his unspoken thoughts… But perhaps I don’t want to know. That seems to be the naked truth. My sooth was cleared of clothing or decorations. I do have a foolish interpretation of his silence in my mind which haunts me like a black widowed crow. Have I mentioned that I have a special adoration for crows?
I assume you will find my declaration irritatingly nonsensical. Can I be excused for loving the soothing that strangulates my lungs? Certain things cannot be excused so perhaps I am not forgiven. I have betrayed my universe and its’ sweet, agonising revenge is more than accepted. It took away my oxygen and tragically I do not mind. I can live without it.
That certain touch of tenderness that filled my dreams is gone. The exasperation of waiting to see him is gone too. Everything has drifted away. Do you find me depressing? Because I already do find me so.
I should let you know that I am not. There is a new kind of happiness running through my veins. I have made piece with my own desperation. I have made piece with myself and that is how everything flows willingly into another direction. I opened my eyes and the darkness was gone. I could see the stars telling me everything is going to be just fine.
All I had to do is admit to myself the harsh truth; that everything was over and I had to move on. –
Let’s be honest people! You love Love! Everyone adores a little unhappy love story with a happy ending. We complain, oh yes, we could die complaining about how Love makes our lives miserable, painful or (at some point) amazingly interesting. At the end of the road it doesn’t matter. When your route is over, at that moment when you have to point yourself into a different direction just because your Love had expired, there it is where you will realize that all you can do is fall in Love again. Yes, yes my dear Human, that is what you crave; Love. Even if you don’t want to admit it, you desire drama and epic storytelling even if you put at risk your weakened heart.
I never thought I would make such a confession. Actually, I never believed all those cruel heart-breakers who anticipated Love differently than I did. Perhaps they saw things more rationally. I couldn’t. Would you? Is it Love rational?
I would be sinning if I’d reject my own theories so I won’t. I will speak both logically and sentimentally. On the one hand, as you may have seen, people cannot live without drama and day-by-day struggling. On the other hand, the universe cannot exist without the romantic constellations. So there it is the explanation. Humans cannot survive in a world where Love comes without struggling and the universe is unable to create something of such greatness easily. The knot is done. All generations are pulled into this labyrinth, craving for Love. Roll the dice, get a player, build some houses, own some places, roll the dice again and take some credit for beginning again.
Have you ever felt the need to expose yourselves by revealing your real feelings to someone even if you two had drifted away? What did you do or what would you do in that case?
You asked me where have I gone. I answered ”here”. But my voice was silent. I was mute, incapable to scream loudly where I am. But I’m here. You don’t know this because you’re blind. You cannot see me through your majestic shades and I fear there is nothing to be done anymore. The volume of my voice cannot increase anymore. My heart beats are too loud. But nobody can hear them. Neither you. Your faces are masked. You wear a mask of ego. The neighbour wears a mask of money. I wear a mask of pain. My friend wears a mask of nothingness. So that’s it. We are all wearing masks, covering our inner selves, imploring for someone to break them without giving our permission. Don’t you think that’s too much to ask for from another human being? Who is he to shave away my pain? Who am I to fight his ego?
We do not bother ourselves. We try nothing and we accomplish nothing. We starve ourselves and then we’re fed so we don’t die. Isn’t it ironic? We starve ourselves from truth and we’re fed with big fat lies. In the morning we complain about our situation and at night we hope for the best tomorrows. But we do nothing. We breath in polluted air and exhale some more garbage to the world. We become an intoxication for our own kind. We are drugged by other human beings; knowing that they can either be our paradise or our inferno. I suppose the next rhetoric question I should be asking is whether that’s a good or a bad thing, but I am not. I am sure you are already asking yourself that or something similar. Aren’t you?
If you are not, maybe you should worry. Or you must definitely worry.
My soul is made of glass. The outline is thick and forms a perfect circle. It resembles to a ball of fire. Sometimes steel. Mostly though it’s glass. It can break easily but the fire still exists, containing it, keeping it intact. My mask is made of pain. Some may say it resembles to my soul. Others claim there is no pain inside me, just a failure that I’m trying hard to bring upon myself. I don’t know which theory applies in my case but I wish none are true.
My heart’s state is variable. There is mostly pain; the kind of pain that consumes me, burns my insides and somehow feeds me hope. My soul, I’ve seen, is more than glass and fire, or steel. My soul is blue, green and red. My soul is a mixture of clouds and oceans, soaked summer grass and extracts from extraterrestrial lands. My soul is made of what I am fed and I dare saying, my food is love and hate.
There it was my inspiration swinging like a flake before my eyes. I could see it but I could not touch it. My mind evoked a breeze, a hopeless wind that pushed it away, ravished it on the ground. But my inspiration would not let go. The gravity was not powerful enough to overtake its’ strength. My flake was floating helpless but still alive. For a moment there was no time. It was just a thin shadow in the air that was standing still, waiting for me to unlock the door of my mind. But I couldn’t. Even if I desired to diminish that door, I couldn’t. It was something more than I could conceive or accept. I feared a shadow had control over my subconscious. Perhaps that was it. Someone or something that controlled my emotions.
Unfortunately I figured it out. I was controlled by my own desperate thoughts. I wished I could go back to my dream. I wished for that silence that overwhelmed me.
The midday sun hays blurred my thoughts. Why?