To Hold Her Hands

To hold her hands, the way you did the day you met her, and the way you do since you promised that you'll be together forever, soul for soul, body for body.

To hold her hands, so that you can together traverse the pathways of life, to smile together and together to taste some of the bitter fruits of being, to try new flavors, to meet different people, to travel.

To hold her hands, when she's ill and when she's sad, when she's happy and full of optimism, when she needs you and does not, and thus, together continue to venture through the shadow lands of space and time, through sunny valleys, rivers wild and emotional peaks and bottoms. To hold her hands…

The photo was taken in Pai, Thailand

Reflections in the Mirror of a Distorted Mind II

I didn't want to come here… Oh I've already told you that. How much money have I already spent by repeating myself. That's not much. Yes, I have money. Enough to pay you anyway. I think you are developing a tick. Or a tack. Your eye is trembling. The right one. No. Wait. Don't get angry. Not yet. Okay now, okay, I surrender. Let me tell you a true story.

*

There was once a girl that was called Helena. Yes, that Helena. Helena was a beautiful girl and had always been popular with boys. And with girls as well, mind you. Helena was blessed, or at least so everyone thought, because she had everything a girl would ever want. The looks, the wits, the wealth. But deep down she was as miserable as miserable people come. She wanted something else in life. What exactly, she couldn't tell. So while the lips were smiling, the eyes were sad. And while her body was blossoming her soul was fading. For hers, you know, was an ancient soul. She could see things that others could not. She could feel things. Really feel. When I met her she was at a crossroad in her life I guess. She was falling apart and trying desperately to find something to hold onto. I was in the exact opposite state. At a good place. Which thanks to her turned bad. Her sorrow swallowed me whole, but somehow my presence in her life was enough to keep her floating over the murky waters of her graceless existence. And here comes out the poet in me. But I digress. No, I don't. To make a long story short I fell for her, and, here I am…

*

Do I blame her for my depression? Did you really have to ask that? Of course I do. Before I met her I was… I was… Truth is I never was happy. Nor unhappy. But I was content. She took that away from me. Now I'm mostly unhappy. And I mask my misery behind wide smiles. I smile the questions away. Not yours obviously, since you don't ask many. Why don't you? No I am not upset. I'm not. Did you see what I did there? No? Well, once I've used an apostrophe, just like now, and once I did not. If my sister is bipolar I guess I am bi-parallel or something. Does that make any sense?

*

You think perhaps we should take a break here. You think? You don't know? Are my fifty minutes over already? Well, time flies by in this office. Sorry, practice. But how can a space be a practice? I know you didn't say that. I'm just wondering. Couldn't it simply be a practice space? I mean they are both words. I see a spark in your eyes. Am I an interesting patient after all? A nut job? I guess I am. I find me interesting. What? You want to talk about my mother? Are you crazy? I mean did you know my mother? My mother was… My mother was a figment of my father's imagination. As I am of hers. We are all fictions. Mostly bad ones. Oh, you wanted to know how she was as person. Let me see…

Part I

To be continued.

The image was taken from here.

 

Reflections in the Mirror of a Distorted Mind I

She made me do it. I swear I didn't want to. This is not me. This is never me. I am different. But she… Helena. Always Helena. Eleni of old. Helen of not so old. A name that haunts the ages. In the beginning was Troy. And then it was me. And then came The Vampire Diaries. Funny, isn't it?

*

You were supposed to ask me questions. Come on. Ask away, or close, it matters not to me. Ask and I will answer. Honestly. Most of the time. What? My sentences are too short? Short. That's how they always were. I think. No. No, they were not. I remember now. But how can that be? How did I transform long sentences into short? People change, you say. You don't say.

*

What should I tell you? Whatever I want? Your job is to listen and mine to talk? But then why are you the one getting paid? You smile. Or you smirk. I can't tell. Can I have a drink? I always carry a flask full of vodka with me. No? Why not? It's not proper you say. But if things were proper I wouldn't be here, would I? Right? Don't sigh. You don't know anything about me yet. When you get to know me, and I'm not sure that you will, then you can sigh. Then you will want to sigh.

*

You say I should start at the beginning, but which beginning? The beginning of this session? Of my life? Of the rest of my life? Okay, I was born… But I guess you already knew that. Anyway, my family was rich. In idiots. My father was an idiot. My mother was a moron. My sister is bipolar and I think I have multiple-purpose disorder. No, not personality, purpose. I exist to fulfill many purposes.

*

Go on, laugh. You want to laugh. I can tell. I guess you meet crazy people all the time because of your practice. Oh, I always wanted to know, why do you call it practice and not job? I see. It doesn't make any sense, but anyway, if you say so… I think you need to sleep more. Those bags under your eyes suggest… I know this isn't about you, but since I'm the one doing the paying I should be the… No?

*

The beginning, right. At the beginning was the light. Ha ha. Where's your sense of humor? What? You think this is not going to work? You are giving up on me already? That was fast. And I was just beginning to like you, you know. I am driving you crazy, I can tell. I just hope that you won't pull a gun on me like that shrink did in that TV series… What was it? Whatever. Okay, I will talk.

To be continued.

The image was taken from here.

 

Week 21

He loves his job, a lot, because it helps him remember a past that he has never lived, but about which he heard many a story by his forefathers.

Tourists don't come too often, because there's nothing much for one to see in his parts of the wood anymore; a few impalas, a lonely antelope maybe, some zebras, and if they really get lucky they can even catch a glimpse of an old lion that has probably lost its way and wandered here.

But these few things, these few animals, are more than enough for him, since they give him the chance to meet and converse with a few foreigners, which in turn allows him to escape the constant boredom and walk for once again in the misty landscapes of his ancestors.

Short Cuts 4

That night trip to the falls. Magic. I don't have to ask you. I know you remember. How could you not?

The blanket on the rocks. The sweet red wine. The whisper of the trees and the thunder of the water. And the stars above. A sky unlike any other. A wonder unlike any other.

***

Where are you now? What are you doing? Is that flame that once pierced your eyes and engulfed my soul gone?

I wish not. As I wish you'll seize to fight. You'll never find happiness where others do. You scare people. They can't handle your honesty. And that's my fault.

***

Friends move on. Friends make new friends. Friends forget. And sometimes are forgotten. But not lovers.

Young love is an ode to the misery to come. And yet. Give me young love and I'll be willing to sacrifice everything at its shrine. Now that I know better.

***

They say that people can't save us. We can only save ourselves. But how can that be? How can that be?

If there are no people in your life, there's nothing to bind you to this world. People may be our killers, but they can also be our saviors. Different people. The ones who are right for us.

Make me, I'm begging you. Make me into someone else. But, alas, I know you cannot hear me...

The image was taken from here.