You lie on the edge of the roof, your body stretched on a narrow surface between the short concrete wall and the abyss. You look down, then up at me, then down again. It’s crazy, you say, how it just goes straight to the ground. There are some 12 stories underneath us, and the shoe you were tempted to throw down would have ways to fly.
I trust your words yet I have a strong urge to check it out myself. I lean forward. Careful, I hear from a couple of friends behind, who grab my sleeve as I continue to lean toward the edge. It’s only when my eyes run down the vertical wall below — all the way to the treacherous pavement and the tiny shadows of parked cars and streetlights — that I fully comprehend how high we have climbed and how real the danger of falling is for both of us.
We ran many flights of stairs and climbed some shaky ladders to watch the city lights one night, eager to find adventure on the bleak streets of reality. As I looked down and felt the cool breeze hit my face, the solid roof under my feet started to fade into the unknown, reminding me of my life. I closed my eyes and pictured what would have happened if I leaned too far, the tingly feeling of free fall in my stomach. I’d open my eyes in midair and see you falling right next to me. I’d scream inside, trying to rethink the whole scenario, trying to erase the idea of reaching the ground, because somewhere in the back of my mind, through some inexplicable vision of the future, I knew the landing would be deadly for one of us.
You might say it was your idea to climb up here, but I have to point out you were careful about the ascend, watching your step and mine. I was the one whose walk turned into a sprint as I got excited about reaching the summit. It was me who took you to the edge and it’s me who’s about to take you over it.
Please take the stairs and walk off this roof, down to where we started. Run away from me. Don’t tell me we’ll fly together, because you know neither of us is an angel. Don’t let me pull your sleeve, because I can already see the pavement below.
My face seeks the shelter in my palms, A weak protection from the storm of uncertainty. Run away from me! Stop following me into the darkness, We are not too far yet for you to be saved.
…Excuse me miss, What would you like today?
Can I think for a moment? Why the choices again? Can I please… No, wait… I just changed my mind. Could I first have my confidence back Followed up by some trust on the side Could I have some hope for a drink For desert give me back my beliefs in me, in people, in something higher.
Can I have no ice in my drink? Why? Can your heart get any colder?
Forgive me. You chose the worst possible time To enter my life. You are pure as tears I shed… just months ago. I don’t think I am…
Love is what you are all about. As of today, I don’t believe in love.
Forgive me. Maybe one day my heart will thaw. I think one day I will allow it to feel again. I know one day I’ll be able to look up And find my reflection in someone’s eyes. If you are still hanging there, Maybe they’ll be yours. That being said… you are free to go, Escape from me For I am too dangerous As of right now.
You are kind, simple and true, I cannot let you near this poison.
No, you can’t, This chair is taken By my thoughts, This meal I can’t share Please allow me to have it alone.
I found two great friends this summer. One corrupts me. Another one tries to save my soul.
One tempts me with new experiences, unconditional freedom and the joy of surpassing conventional wisdom. Another one refuses to repeat any irrational ways of mine but does not judge me either.
I sense animosity between them. Each one thinks of the other as an extreme, and I am caught in the crossfire.
I need both of them very much. I grew so close to them, I care for both, each one gives me comfort that only a good long-time friend can give, and I feel I can keep my balance as long as I have them both in my life. But I also feel that the darker side is so much easier to fall to. I would like to go there, it seems, stay for just a little, and then come back. When I look that direction, however, I don’t see a turning point. I try to stay on the safe side, but I easily get bored.
I believe people don’t have to adjust their characters in order to be good friends. Minor improvements are good; becoming something you are not isn’t. I feel like I need to stay where I am, in the middle, and I hope it won’t cause losing any of them. I need some moral incentives though, and I need them bad.
It’s how we treat people around us that they will treat us back. It’s how much we really care about their responses to our questions that they will open up to us. It’s how close to our hearts we let them that they will let us to theirs.
I am so happy to lend you an ear, my friend, even if you won’t shut up for hours :) I learned more about you last night than I know about myself, it seems. You are worth every minute of it though, because it’s you I run to when I need to get heard.
I think sometimes we are too scared to renew old bonds. For one reason or another we lose connection with people whose company we actually used to enjoy some time back then. We lose a common place or institution — a school, a job, a neighborhood or a city… We lose common friends or a hobby. Sometimes we lose people without even getting a chance to know them better, thinking regretfully that we might have actually become friends, if we had just taken a little more time to find a common thread… before we lost each other.
We are so used to losing we don’t give much meaning to it anymore. There is no time in our lives for writing letters or attending reunions. We are too busy seeking for the new in this world to remember and appreciate the old.
The soccer game this weekend is my major attempt to reconnect with those old friends whose company I used to enjoy, but whom I lost to moving, time, work and other excuses — just go through the list of what you say when you don’t keep in touch for too long and you will know exactly what I am talking about.
It wasn’t easy to invite them, it’s never easy to make that first step to reconnect, but now that I did, I am eager to see what comes out of this.
The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
— Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
You can hold my hand if you want to… But at the end of the day, I really need to be with myself. Reminds you of a silly summer song, doesn’t it? I had to borrow its words though because it reflects my life all too well right now.
It’s a small place, he said, we’ll run into each other. We did, of course. It’s a fake attraction, I told myself. My head gets light when I sense free spirit and creativity and he, too, is free-spirited and creative. But I need my space more than anything right now. I need to straighten things up within me before I can give again, and it might take time. Is friendship an option or do things not work like that in real world? Maybe I live in a fairy tale because that way I don’t have to lose anymore. I only hope I can keep my newly found friend.
I hope not, or at least not entirely, because some of the choices I made this week embarrass me.
I am trying to find the right way toward my dreams and discover myself along the way, but I take detours too often. I find adventure in them, but I also get lost. I get entangled in a spider web of my feelings, and I choose to turn my reason off at times, the decision that always gets me in trouble. I feel like screaming or hitting myself with something heavy.
I feel as if I’m not someone I want be. How do I find myself? When did I get so lost? Where do I go looking for a better me?
I would like to think that I am not a bad person, I simply made several bad decisions. My heart thought they were good, and I listened. More than anything, I would like to be stronger.
"I believe if there's any kind of God it wouldn't be in any of us, not you or me but just this little space in between. If there's any kind of magic in this world it must be in the attempt of understanding someone sharing something. I know, it's almost impossible to succeed but who cares really? The answer must be in the attempt."
~ Celine, Before Sunrise.