Mediocre City Lights, Empty Laughter

I was exhausted from the city lights, the fake laughter that was far from making things easier. I wanted to hear the pain, because I knew that it was the only thing that was real. At that moment I was trapped inside and out – I was ugly and foolish, repulsed by every man I have ever known, yet still adoring him. I was surrounded by different people who seemed to be the same – clueless, proud of their mediocrity, emptied out of their essence.

I kept staring at people’s eyes, trying to catch a bit of a depth, a click to make me believe that I wasn’t alone. I also observed the way people looked at me and I couldn’t recognize myself. With pen and paper, red wine and erotic fantasies about someone far away; with insomnia and tiresomeness, anticipation and reading the world – that was how I could see myself for the past couple of years.

I was still even when I was changing my life, my emotions didn’t move in tune with the circumstances, they remained as flat as a summer lake, stubborn in their comfort zone, fighting for waves and journeys.

I played the melodies that he once played for me and I imagined what his thoughts were saying, what he thought mine were saying; I imagined scents of perfumes, echo of desires, left-overs of a dream. I imagined our life in the bedroom, in the daylight, in the shallowness of the city. I refused to live, I refused to give up.

I was watching the darkness, the Moon, the beautiful painless things that happened only in the distance.

One thought on “Mediocre City Lights, Empty Laughter

  1. [] “O Discordia…!” – Stephen King, “The Dark Tower”

    that ‘lonely in a crowd’ but even lonelier inside because that absence Echoes, doesn’t it? The absence isn’t an absence of sound or memory – they click and snap and murmur and that emptiness doesn’t just sing it back, it Amplifies it. And the lack of being whole is of greater mass than it was just a few minutes ago. Nobody looks like anybody when I’m in that state of being. Sounds sort of like this was written while passing through this kind of state.
    fresh wounds.
    old familiarity.

    “You’ll be given love you have to trust it – maybe not from the sources you have poured yours – maybe not from the directions you are staring at…”
    “All is Full of Love” – BJORK
    [] ‘A Face in the Crowd’ by Tom Petty
    [] ‘A Warm Place’ by Nine Inch Nails
    [] ‘A Bridge Over Trouble Water’ by Simon & Garfunkel

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