As I'm reading myself to sleep in an ancient rocking chair, I hear the echo of the wedding bells outside of my house. I lift my weightless body from the fragile wooden frame rather effortlessly and step outside. My sister in her priest attire is conducing a wedding ceremony in the shade of an old oak tree that's claimed it's residence across the way from my house hundreds of years ago. It takes me a second to realize what is going on... There are no fancy dressed guests; there are no perfectly assembled flower arrangements; there is no band; the bride and the groom are standing in front of the priestess, each on their old wobbly chair, both with a rope around their necks… I read my sister's lips as she quietly pronounces them 'husband' and 'wife'. I get caught in the magic of the moment as they lock their lips for a split second. Next thing I know, the antique chairs fly onto the ground, and the ropes stiffen under the weight of two lifeless bodies. I want to run towards them and help, but my legs are paralyzed, as if my ability to move died along with their eternal union...
The screeching of an old apartment gate underneath my window makes me wake up into the reality of a cold January night. These eerie nightmares are getting too realistic for my taste... Car lights are creating shadows and doubts on the ceiling of my room, as I catch my breath and stop shaking. It only takes moments for all my insecurities to attack, while my neglected self-esteem runs off to hide in the bathroom. As it takes a bubble bath, I'm contemplating what to write about tonight…
I want to write about the world we live in, the past we survived, and the future we were dealt. I wonder about insecurities, anxieties and desires of a simple human being. I question the supposed simplicity of each one of us. I calculate distances, lovers and faith. I contemplate the effects of wine and Nyquil combined. I reminisce a lonely cigarette by a bonfire of burning memories. I mourn the one who taught me how to live and love. I strive for … I attempt to … Goddammit! What is this noise?! I throw the pile of blankets into the cold corner of the bed, and disappear into the darkness of now. I take out the batteries out of all the clocks around the house, so I can think and exist in this dead silence; so I can sleep and dream of stopping time, of stopping the ticking bomb awaiting a phenomenal explosion once you and I collide again.
This dead silence that now reigns the house smells like jasmine and something blue. Not sky-blue, not ocean-blue; more a blue reflected in my green eyes every time I cross-examine my reflection in the mirror; more a blue of a vivid night storm; more a dark blue of tomorrow's forecast of prolonged anxiety and bitter melancholy… And the more I imagine that kind of blue, the more the strings inside me tighten, until the thinnest one snaps and breaks, leaving a lingering melody of a long forgotten song inside of me. I close my eyes shut to forget the impact of the broken string and the pretty sound of devastation it left. It is only in this dark blue reality that I grasp how silence is powerful, but words of honesty are far more damaging. In a blink of an eye, in a glance of a phone conversation, it's all gone with the wind that gushes through my hair and carries away the dense smoke of my non-existing cigarette...
The holidays did not feel like holidays at all this year. I am already picturing myself tangled in ribbons, shimmer and once-bright lights, and surrounded by shiny worthless ornaments tomorrow morning. The memory of your big brown eyes looking up at me lights up the room, while the dull sunrise tries to make it's way through the thick grey cover of the rainy clouds. My mind is traveling between accessories to discovery and epiphanies, with the former being me and the latter breaking my heart.
Everyone has their own demons, I just should have never let mine to come out and play...
No comments:
Post a Comment