You see… I can’t remember you very well. I can’t remember what it’s like to be around you. But I’m sure it must feel great. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have dreamt of it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have longed for it. I still believe that you’re the answer. The only answer for all my questions.
When I was younger I thought you were the only thing I lacked. I missed you every day, even though I didn’t know you very well. At all. Actually, I didn’t know you at all. Just a face carved in my memory, just a few smiles, just a few jokes. The pictures that my mother drew on a mouldy wallpaper were too blurry. They were a lie. I’d been always lied to.
While I was growing older, I learnt how to live without you. I learnt how to take care of myself. I became strong and independent. The hole was still in me, though. Raw. A piece of my body deprived of skin that hurts every time I touch it. The hole that cannot be hidden and, at the same time, cannot be exposed. The hole that was given to me by the ones who should love me the most.
My heart longs and cries for something I cannot remember. The taste of the sweet syrup in the morning. The breeze in the sea of laughters. The warmth in the kingdom of dreams. The sense of safety.
Instead, I’ve been walking on pebbles. Knowing they’re slippy and dangerous, I take every step very carefully, very slowly, counting every drop of water that slips through my fingers.
I don’t know how long I have been like this for. I don’t know how long I’m going to stay like this for. Lingering.
I’m standing here, on the firm ground reaching out so high I’ve been dreaming of flying to the skies where I can see my thoughts where I can unite with myself. Yet, I’m standing here chained like a horse running round and round with my neat shoes on I step into puddles wanting them to be mirrors.
Where do I go with my broken armor so indifferent still longing for something that has never been here.
born in rain streaming down my face drawn in a fantasy creating unreal realms revealed in sadness blackening the skies i cannot hold a single sphere dig a hole in the ground to pour my soul in
It’s getting cold. You wake up in the morning and get out of the bed with your cold feet you head to the window. You touch the cold glass trying to touch the sun, rising in the distance. Cold.
The weather has nothing to do with the cold that I carry in myself, though. It’s always been here. Never goes away. Never disappears. Like crystals of ice covering my skin. Why am I so cold?
You just need a little bit of fire, my dear, you would think. But I walked through the fire many times and never felt a stroke of warmth. My body’s weak. Starving. Barely breathing. Vanishing.
I need a hug. Where are you? Asking the only person who could hug me. You know no one else can do it. Do not touch me. Do not come any closer. How sad is that? Always in the arms of strangers.
What did you do to me? Never needed this. Touching, hugging, talking. Always fine on my own. What did you do to me? I picked the fruit from the tree, deep red, and I ate it forgetting how bitter it had been.
Maybe the Mother was right. Maybe I shouldn’t be on my own, after all.