“Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant.”
― Hunter S. Thompson
That noise. Shuddering noise that had nothing to do with sounds co-existed with everything poignant that got me so far into the new year; fire places and glasses half-full half-overflown with my stubborn patience for moments that I thought with time would lead me to an end-of-the-universe happiness, but the journey didn’t end – we were constantly finding and forgetting reasons because all strategies for balancing happiness and sadness didn’t work and we didn’t belong in the science of riddles anyway; we were running towards the road of a free togetherness, the road behind the eternal ocean, the sun and the promises we were waiting for, avoiding the flashes of an eventual non-existence. Life was never about ‘now or never’; it kept streaming on and on in the midst of some sort of nakedness and darkness and plans that dragged us forward. We didn’t know a thing about anything except the parts of our own confusions, but every thought and action was small compared to the world and all the worlds beneath.
‘Everything comes back.’ Every world of appearances that we called illusion, every concern with the immediate, the maturing feelings we had been cultivating in our minds night after night; sipping on another drink, the latest always tastier than the previous, so were the explosions behind worthless things, purer and more real with every left-over of a flame. We designed a potential future and edited a hallucinated past, while the long shot of the present that we couldn’t escape from, was slipping away disformed, blurred like the view through her eyes, exposed and helpless moment she was going to want back as soon as it was gone. People wondered what they have left behind on their way to another decadent dream, and myself, feeling responsible for the whole world – all of its parts, all of its brokenness and mysery. The weary and old city with images of distant vividness and someone close, someone better than us, pulling us higher to a nicer world. How selfish we were disregarding the desires of others. Who did we love? Who did we have? One day feelings would mean something else, why did they matter so? Moments were right now, this was a real moment, me typing and hoping that if time was so powerful, time would be right. Only unaware of time, we could indulge in our impatience.
Motionless, we stood between the buzz of the tower, speaking about the importance of time, with frozen minds, fearing the following day as if something big was going to happen and we would not remember the taste of the sweet things, the inflammable things. Stretching our limbs, grabbing someone’s hand, walking between tall buildings, we closed up in times when we were supposed to be as open as ever, rarely admitting how afraid we were – jump out of those patient moments of beautiful nothings, jump into the snow the sunshine the quiet and noisy square of a live stream.
We knew life by then, growing up and down, watching others return to their bubbles and get used to the sanity of our sad red earth. Disillusioned elastic dreams of being someone better for someone else, we knew a thousand things about everyone and everything by then; thousand little treatments that we needed every minute of our joyful joyless shiny little lives to happen but they only happened every now and then. I never got up early enough to sit at dusk and think clearly about the emotions that were tricky in darkness, and for what? Others had small souls of their own to carry with more endless fights for defined good lives. What if this was life just the way we were and we were never going to be better and we were never going to be somewhere better? What was left to wish for, to prove? Suddenly I felt like there wasn’t enough fire for things the way they were and I urged to run down Battersea bridge, screaming out the necessity to see life to fall asleep at dusk to forget to say something important to lose a job and get embarrassed more times, but see, see life.