I wondered if I was afraid of dying or I was afraid of living like I wasn’t afraid at all – the wind that didn’t want to blow my fantasies away, the honest moment between the two of us, the existence of anticipation that wasn’t reaching any destination and other things on my mind made me think of how fragile life was compared to irrelevant thoughts like those. All the important moments were blurred, like a forgotten déjà vu, misspelled desire, blocked letting go and this constant rush for more of it even though it left nothing but a vivid memory of something that could have been better if I had dared to look into his eyes. It could have been something if I had connected my excited brain cells with my terrified heart and even if for a short and last time, felt completeness throughout this foggy, silent moment of time.
I stepped out of the car – there was still no wind, no rain, no sunshine, only my irritation of this stillness which kept on altering my senses of everything done wrongly, everything not felt rightly, fully, totally and I dug more into it trying to see a different life but this was life – ideas, plans for catching a sunset with a loved one, winning prizes, taking risks, laughing and crying with friends, feeling lonely in the middle of a cold Spring. Just ideas and no drive away.
I danced with my white socks and easy dress on, playing innocent, thinking of being dragged into a room and forced to do things not that innocent. If freedom only existed after satisfaction, beyond emptiness, underneath the worries about the future moment, I wasn’t sure I was going to ever get there. But there was nothing else in this world – only the eyes of the beggars, the broken hearts that never healed, the brief moments of pleasure, the search for freedom that the we craved but weren’t sure where to find it and how to express it. Socks in the air, shades on, drinking memories.