You know those special moments when you’re with your special someone, and you’re both lying on a small couch, your head resting on his chest, and talking about something funny? You both know there’s so much to do but this one lazy afternoon, you put it behind you and you just stay there, surrounded with each other, surrounded in the scent of each other. Your life then is like a static moment in a wonderland, the afternoon is glowing calm and the closeness of him is the stability and reassurance that you’re safe forever in his arms. Time freezes in such instances, you can watch them replay over and over again from the outside. But I’ll tell you when it hurts. You’re not the one in this moment, no, you never were. You never had that closeness you see in other people and the one that you ache for. Why? Because the long winding maze of life took it away, your view to trust the world, your set of eyes that looked at everything bright, like a bunch of balloons floating in the air; green, blue, pink and innocent. No, all of that just withered away. And now you’re stuck in a repeating nightmare, what you wanted, that sight on the couch, that little perfect moment, the smell of him, the touch and the laugh, the eyes, when they looked into yours, when they told you everything will be alright. No, instead what you got was a back handed slap to your dreams, to everything you cherished, it was all destroyed like a paper boat sent tumbling into the gutter, where it withers away slowly and decisively. And you think you can be with someone but how can you, when you can trust no longer, when you can see no longer when the day turns into night and night into day? The coming of the night blinds you, tears at you and shuts you down. It immobilizes you. You’re stuck in your little corner, waiting for the day to pass and the night to linger so you can breathe again. Maybe you can breathe again. Maybe you stay chilled and crumpled, trapped between the ceiling and the wooden floor, bound to terror and the repetitive visits of darkness your mind takes you wandering into. It’s like a maze that cannot be avoided and it’s like a maze that cannot be escaped. There is no way out. The visions die with the ending of the day.
I walk on dried leaves, just like I walked on water for you. I walked on water for you. I laughed in love, in love I wept and cried. A broken man plays a broken cello and in the shadow of his weeping music, I dance. Just like I danced in your arms that spring the flowers bloomed, one wonderful day the sun never set. Like two swans we waded out into the sea and the blossoming halo of a perfect sunset welcomed us. A promise it gave, a calm certainty of hope. A comfort it gave of what things lie beyond. The notes of this cello wring the pain from my heart and I remember, a trust given and a trust broken; the beauty of woven lies, resplendent in all their deception. And caught in the trap of a dying and devouring spider, glued to the silken string of an impending death, I wait.
I feel inspired, today, this evening, I feel like life woke me anew. Just yesterday, I withered in the flames and today, I emerged anew. And I said to him, as we both laid in bed, I said to him, “Let’s count the stars.” And the sky was an open ocean atop, the sky opened above us and we lay below, staring, side by side. I said to him, “Look at that one, the one in the corner,” and he answered, “That one looks like a shooting star.” Quick, now we have to make a wish, make a wish. Make a wish, and be quick about it. Don’t fear, don’t think about it. Just wish, wish for the first thing you can think. And the sky, the sky shot it down, it glowed and glowed, like a silver orb, caught in flight, rushing down, down. And he said to me, “Just make a wish, a wish from the bottom of your heart.”
Let me tell you something, my friend.
Life is so very long. You close your eyes each night, you close your eyes and you wake up to the glowing sun. In those first rays that skim your face, do you know how many years pass by? In my heart, somewhere deep inside, I see the real you. There is an aching loneliness here, there is an aching cry, which pierces me. It pierces me. Let me tell you something. I know what it feels like, when you’re broken, all cut up in neat and orderly triangles, right in the center of your soul. You struggle to make sense of things, so you put them in neat little shapes. There, everything is orderly, everything is set and you walk the straight line.
There have been those few times I’ve glimpsed something, leaving as suddenly as it came, flitting across your face like a million thoughts; confusions that you keep bottled up. I always say, our love for someone is a reflection of ourselves inside them. I always say, I couldn’t save myself, maybe I could save you, maybe I could help you. If only, if only, if only time lets me; if only life doesn’t flit past without giving me a chance. Will I ever board this train again? Will I ever see the sight of those hills, of those towers as I cross them? I told myself, this time, this time no goodbyes, this time no surrender. But lord, do I ache for myself and for what I’ve lost and did I weep for you and your sadness… All my life, I only needed one chance, I only pleaded for this one thing- belief. Believe me. Put your trust in me. Hold my hand. Because I have needed you as you need someone, but you won’t look, you won’t dare, you won’t. And my test to myself fails. My test to myself and what I feel for you is all but a fluttering goldfish in a drying pond. So help me god, I told myself over and over, so help me god, I will not give up and I did. I got pushed and I got shoved, and I stood my ground and fought my battles. Tried and tested, I have been tried and tested. If only I could wave my brush and clear away the pain from your canvas. If only I could draw you a new life in which you would be happy. If only, if only and only ifs… I have nothing to give but myself and my words and what use are words, unless you use them for burning coals and burning fire?
There are some confessions you just can’t make, not even to people you hide from behind fake names and thousands of miles of land and sea. Neil Gaiman wrote;
Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.
― The Sandman, Vol. 9: The Kindly Ones
You’d think it was a normal day, right? You wake up, ready to go; the sun is shining, there’s a nice breeze; everything is everyday-like. You don’t know it yet but you walk right into this trap fate has set for you. You’d think it wouldn’t feel this way every single damn time; love is a nasty business. It’s always a nasty business and it never changes, no matter how old you are; there is just never any preparation; you don’t stand a chance. Fate sees to that. There are so many people in this world; so many things they do every day around you; yet this light shines around just one of them. You’re going about your business, doing your thing; and this one thing just keeps intruding into your thoughts. It’s like a gate you just can’t keep barred shut, no matter how hard you try. It’s like the cracks underneath the door that let the light seep in, slowly and surely. It seeps in, seeps in your thoughts, seeps in your day, seeps in your heart; it seeps into the very depths of your soul and it takes over. It binds you and there’s no escaping it; none.
It’s a conversation I’ve had with myself so often. You’d think you asked for it; no, you never did. It’s a series of normal-day events, that take place in such a delusional reality that everything is twisted around you. You listen, touch, hear and feel like normal people but your mind is already enslaved. And through what? You have one conversation; hell, you could even just only talk about the weather and yet, your heart jumps higher in your chest; your breath comes out a little fast; what’s happened? Nothing special; he may just have laughed; he may just have been himself and yet here you are. At his feet. Yes, it’s a nasty business full of a bone deep hurting; full of a longing you know is misplaced; full of feelings that have no place being there; full of the sounds of the day you know you’d never live; full of the darkness that drowns you as you try to reach for that light; it’s full of this smoke; uncertainty; no clarity; a gravity that pulls you in until you’re no longer there.
You see the best in people; you see the best in this paragon you’ve assumed exists. But you really see it, you believe it. It’s what love teaches you every damn time; every damn time. People do not need to be put on pedestals; people are just that, people. And people will always disappoint you, that’s just it; without meaning to, without thinking. It’s inevitable, it just is.
I walked along the river today. My dearest love, these words are withering under the glittering sun. I miss you so dearly. As I walked along the waterway, I thought I saw your reflection on the waves. They teased me, if I reached out to touch, they fled from me. Then from afar, they beckoned to me, mischievously. My dearest heart, were those your wings I flew on? Did my weight burden you? We flew for too long. We saw the world from the topmost spires. The organ wept in the cathedrals below us; the keys were beaten, the notes, they wept; the notes, they were ferocious in their sadness. My voice, it cracked, and songs, broken and withered, were pulled out of me, out of the deepest depths of my soul. I beat on the music, I urged it; enraged, I beat on the notes; furious why I couldn’t fly; why my wings lay broken; why my heart no longer felt. My love, if this was yesterday, I would have given into you like no other. If this was yesterday, I would have taken you to the heavens; I would have sang to you songs of fire, songs of a wild, wild rush. I would have carried you on my wings, taking you, craving you; right into the skies, to the moon, burning like stars- I would have taken you. If it was yesterday… My love, yesterdays; ghosts, whispers and echoes- yesterdays; lights glowing softly, curled up in bed with a book, with a cup of steaming tea; laying next to you, head resting on your chest, hearing your heart beat- a scent I cannot forget, a touch I cannot stop feeling- laying in an infinite world, clouds soaring in through the open window- yesterdays… My dearest heart, love wanes. Memories come and they go, leaving behind soft footprints you can follow for some time on a slow day. My dearest dear, echoes will not stumble forever, ghosts will not always haunt; faces will eventually disappear; rust and dust and broken trust; they will win. They will win. And where will we be then?
My feelings take me to the edge. The dark and stillness whispers, nothing is quiet, but always these talking voices. They go this way and that, twisting and turning, tumbling and weeping. How should I contain the way I feel? Because sometimes the soul is overwhelmed, filled to the brim, it aches, it throbs.
What actions make us human? What actions make us their dark replicas? How should we act? Is every moment etched in time like words soldered in iron or can it be erased? Is every moment like shifting sand? Sometimes I have trouble distinguishing, as if the memories have drowned in to the bottom of a vast ocean, but thrown up by a raging storm, catching the moonlight, and finding a way to enter my mind, rousing my emotions, almost as if the waves were playing…
What is there that scares me, hidden beneath the waves of the storm? What is there that makes me stop, and why can’t I face the smashing walls of an endless sea? It roars, surely it should give me power, surely it should make me rise out of the vast depths, rise into the sky, unafraid, facing my fears. Yet I am but the remains of a long forgotten boat. I feel that I have lost my fight, lost the will to fight the waves, the sea. I have the air of one who floats, just floats… And lets the water take myself, my rusted hinges, my lost oars- lets the water take it all away.