You left when the jacarandas were in bloom. The sky was as blue as their petals, floating in the wind to land in lilac pools around their twisted trunks. Every thing seemed so full of life; the sun shining through the windows, the birds fleeting by, the grass beneath our shoes, the breeze through our hair, everthing, every ant, every vine, everything except you.
How could I ever rely on something again? How do you trust yourself, trust others around you, when they dissappear away from you, or when you don't know yourself, or when the things you had for certain, aren't that way anymore? I always had for certain two people that now are gone, gone, gone. One is in a wooden box, there, rotting, his eyelashes, once big and black and fluttering beautifully against his golden brown cheeks, are probably nothing but dust now, there he is, oblivious. Oblivious to the people just a foot away from him, wishing in vain that he would wake up and beat against his box screaming for somebody to take him out, that this was all a mistake, that he's alive. His curly hair is surely limp and lifeless and his belly is swollen from his failing organs. His skin, once beaming like the sun and brown like wheat, is now paler than my moonlike complexion, and colder than a night in the south of my country's winter. Tell me, you there, have you ever seen a corpse? Have you ever looked upon one and thought how empty we really are? How these instruments that we carry around are just shells, shells that any moment now can lose our control? Have you ever gazed upon a face that you used to see every day, that face smiling, laughing, its eyes creasing as his cheeks lift up and he shows his white teeth, his laughter contagious as the plague, have you felt its youth, and see it now lifeless, sleeping forever? But oh, what a paradox it is, that that face has not been touched by age, there he is, in his immortal youth, in his silent and ageless reverie, his hair shall never gray, his beard shall never grow to be white. And yet, his mouth shall never show those pearly like teeth, his cheeks shall never again rise up or grow short beards, his voice shall never sing again in his deep, tumbling voice like lighting against the slopes of a mountain, his eyes shall never again open and see me cry tears that fall and will never stop falling and his arms never again shall embrace me and I shall never feel again his heart beating against my head and rest my cheek upon his chest, happy, happy, happy...
What a fleeting moment, isn't it? Happiness. How we make promises in happy moments, that we expect to keep forever. "I'll always love you" "We'll always be together" "One day, we'll go to Iceland". And now look at them, those men, men I once trusted more than I trusted myself, gone, fleeting like happiness, like life, like youth, like the present. Fleeting like the smoke of the cigarette I am smoking now, remembering, remembering all the time, thinking, feeling death and trying to defeat it, feeling my youth slip by my fingers, conquer it, but shall I ever? I have been brought into this world to die. I have made promises that I have attempted to keep before I died. And yet, there they are, one dead, the other one, gone. Both, promised me they would always be there. Both, gone. Both, dead to me. Both, liars, (you told me it would be okay, that we would make it through, that you would find help) (you told me you would never leave me, that I would be the one to leave you) and yet, I still love them with all that's left in my body and mind. Shall I ever stop? Shall this ever stop? Will there not be a moment where I will be stop being tortured by how time just goes by, cruel and cold and uncompassionate in the wake of so much people in pain, our fragile brains trying to remember every sigh, every feeling, every color of the moments that have passed, the moments we want to treasure every detail of for the rest of our lives in vain? How my pale skin, peachy and fleshy shall grow weak and dry? How my mane of brown hair shall fade away? It scares me, it scares me how we made so many promises, that are now as lifeless as one of you are, it scares me that one day I might forget details of your face that I knew so well, or the sound of your laughter might grow weaker and weaker in my mind until I barely remember the timbre of your vocal chords. It scares me when I might have my first child and it won't be yours, and I'm scared, I'm scared of promises to come, I'm scared of being hurt, it scares me how the present is just an illusion that survives on the scanty capacity of our minds. How so many opportunities have been wasted, how you'll probably find yourself in the arms of another woman that won't be me, you'll promise her the same things as you did to me these past 4 years, how she'll probably be everything to you that I once was. How do you trust yourself, and your feelings, when they fade away like that? How do you take a picture, and not think that this casual little picture you might hold onto for the rest of your life because there's certain person in it? How do you trust anyone?
Spring used to be a happy time for me. My birthday, our birthdays, the sun and the grass. It will never be the same ever again...POSTED BY little girl blue ON Saturday, February 8, 2014 @ 6:25 PM
