You
have potential, I've said the first time I saw you, and for a long time you sat
still, as frozen in time, before replying, no I have not.
Our
perspectives were different. You saw the world, I saw what it could be. Now we
just both see the world, and melancholy is our constant.
***
I
remember you. Your skinny body. Your unruly hair. The way you looked at me
sometimes, as if I wasn't real.
I
wasn't. Our reality was an illusion. But not at first. What started off as a
joke came to be. What came to be was beauty. And beauty, as time passes, always
subsides.
***
When
did that happen? When did things…? Oh, forget it. I know the answers to all the
questions. When it comes to us.
It
all began with my cowardice. My unwillingness to sacrifice some of my personal
space. And with my stubbornness. If I could go back, well, I would change
nothing, because then what was true to us would seize to be.
***
Life.
They say that it moves in circles, but it doesn't. Death may be the recycler
but birth, no matter how many times it happens, is not the creator. It's simply
the mother of all repetition.
***
My
thoughts do not arrive whole, but in pieces, like shots of vodka. Great when
ice cold, not so good when warm.
I
try to smile and I cry. The great paradox. Or rather the parody of being. What
I need to say I will, but only when drunk. When uninhibited. Though that I have
never been...
To be continued
The image was taken from here
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