New Orleans
Once in a blue moon, you meet someone who changes your life forever. Forever, meaning beyond this existence, and into the next and perhaps even further than that. The sky comes crashing down. Life, matter, all of it, everything else, becomes seemingly nonexistent. You become fully aware, all at once, in the existence of the void. The space of nonexistence and inconsequence, where immense power and bitter frailty titter and totter on your every thought and action.
It is a desire that burns so deep that all your actions center around this one fate. And all that you do either brings you closer to it, or pushes you further away. Not by your intentions of course. That would be too easy. It just so happens that usually, the harder you push it away, the closer it seems. And of course, the closer you try to pull it towards you, the further it seems to go away. Like a cloud or a mirage, you see it off in the distance. You can see it, smell it, feel it, but when you reach out and try to grasp it, you realize there’s nothing there. It’s there but its not, you see it, but you can’t feel it, you feel it, but you can’t hold it, you hold it but you can’t, you can’t ever, ever, ever own it. You could swear by your own existence, that it was there. That it wasn’t some figment of your own imagination. It was there for the taking. It was mocking you for not trying sooner, for not trying harder and it just stares and laughs in your face. “Reach out, take a chance, I’m right here for you.” You say no, and turn away, but the days pass, and you start to turn away less often. You begin to listen more to those sweet words rather than your own doubts, your own fears, your own truths.
What kills me is that I knew it all along. I knew it was never there. I told myself from the beginning, don’t believe in the myth, don’t believe in the fantasy. Don’t believe in the one thing that can hurt you. Everything I had learned up to that point in my life told me not to believe. And somehow, within a few moments, days, months, she changed all that. I fell in deep and couldn’t swim. I played the game and couldn’t win. Now I look back and know that it was my fault. It always easier to blame yourself.
The thrill of pain, the want of death… the scream. Landscapes and scenes pass by. There’s no answer to the mystery of memories. Just the time that’s locked into place, seemingly forever in your consciousness.
It is a desire that burns so deep that all your actions center around this one fate. And all that you do either brings you closer to it, or pushes you further away. Not by your intentions of course. That would be too easy. It just so happens that usually, the harder you push it away, the closer it seems. And of course, the closer you try to pull it towards you, the further it seems to go away. Like a cloud or a mirage, you see it off in the distance. You can see it, smell it, feel it, but when you reach out and try to grasp it, you realize there’s nothing there. It’s there but its not, you see it, but you can’t feel it, you feel it, but you can’t hold it, you hold it but you can’t, you can’t ever, ever, ever own it. You could swear by your own existence, that it was there. That it wasn’t some figment of your own imagination. It was there for the taking. It was mocking you for not trying sooner, for not trying harder and it just stares and laughs in your face. “Reach out, take a chance, I’m right here for you.” You say no, and turn away, but the days pass, and you start to turn away less often. You begin to listen more to those sweet words rather than your own doubts, your own fears, your own truths.
What kills me is that I knew it all along. I knew it was never there. I told myself from the beginning, don’t believe in the myth, don’t believe in the fantasy. Don’t believe in the one thing that can hurt you. Everything I had learned up to that point in my life told me not to believe. And somehow, within a few moments, days, months, she changed all that. I fell in deep and couldn’t swim. I played the game and couldn’t win. Now I look back and know that it was my fault. It always easier to blame yourself.
The thrill of pain, the want of death… the scream. Landscapes and scenes pass by. There’s no answer to the mystery of memories. Just the time that’s locked into place, seemingly forever in your consciousness.
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