Missing you

The empty bar hangs over a cliff, and in between beer sips and a quiet talk with a couple of friends on a lazy Sunday afternoon, I watch the rain hug the window panes. It goes on like an endless string of silver, only to end a second later, eaten by the angry ocean below. The water drums are complemented by the sad melody of the wind attempting to make shortcuts through the cracks in the roof. A momentary thought of how beautiful this day is crosses my mind.

How are the States treating me, you ask during the long overdue skype chat weeks later. It's easy to get comfortable here and I don't like easy nor comfortable. I miss getting out of my safety zone every day, working to prove myself constantly and deserving the good things that come to me. Just say you miss me, you reply, throwing a few jokes into the mix. Of course I miss you. Every passing moment that is not occupied by my work or my books, or sometimes various petty things society sees as important, I think of you. That is what I want to say, what I mean to say with every fiber of me. But I throw a joke back at you and I don't show even a slightest sign of how much I care. My guards are up. I lose all courage around you. I am terrified of being hurt by you and you alone.

You hope to see me soon, you say during our goodbyes. I can't help but replay that phrase for some fifties time in my head. Do you really? Or are you simply being polite? I gather these crumbs of happiness you've been feeding me lately and I build a castle out of them, avoiding as much as breathing in its direction, afraid it will fall apart before I get the chance to strengthen the walls. I know I've ruined things before, more than once, but I am learning from my mistakes. I will see you in November. And I will prove to you that I deserve you...
so much more than I did two years ago.

Listening to Relax, Take it Easy by Mika

The day after us

Inside the creases of my skin
Mixed with the song of fuzzy rain
The evening’s kindness wearing thin
Your touch – the thought that ripped my brain
I dreamed you up, I told those streets
I knew the night could choose to hear
My heart kept busy counting beats
While raindrops masked the single tear

Currently listening to Malaika (Angel) by Miriam Makeba (RIP, Mama Africa, the world misses you)

In a city of strangers

Met new friends this weekend. Watched the rain. Explored several new coffee shops, one of which turned out to be a really creepy place. Got lost numerous times although the planning of this town is really simple. Was scared by too much rain on the freeway and must have slowed down the rest of the traffic. Experienced local nightlife and had some stereotypes shattered. Walked in the rain and took lots of pictures. Left muddy footprints on the carpet in the hallway. Stuck a political poster to the car. Took it off as it was obscuring the side view. Thought about putting it back on. Experienced a very unlikely outcome of winning a couple of games of pool. Read a book about writing. Went on a hike and saw striking sceneries at sunset. Danced for the first time in a long time. Decided to try vegetarianism and had tofu, soy milk and an overpriced vegan cookie… followed by a steak later that day. Climbed the house to take pictures of the roof, not sure why. Had an informal tour of the local school’s campus. Wrote. Talked the night away. Chased the neighbors’ dog out of the kitchen. Saw helicopters and tanks. Inhaled the rain. Had breakfast at 4 a.m. while listening to some good R&B and some funky 80s tunes.

* * *
Feeling empty inside.
Missing “old” friends incredibly.
Missing that lifestyle.
Thinking of certain things that are better off left behind for good.
Trying to forget and move on.
Trying not to be too upset about still remembering.
Trying to figure out where I’m going.
Trying to find a way there.

Still listening to Chasing Pavements by Adele
Image credit: hungerartist

Yesterday's rain (watering down memories)

Pain makes man think. Thought makes man wise. Wisdom makes life endurable. ~ John Patrick

You've got to make a conscious choice every day to shed the old - whatever 'the old' means for you. ~ Sarah Ban Breathnach

The scent of bathing grass and dust disturbed by water hits my nostrils. I open the window wider and inhale deeper, savoring the relief brought by rain. I close my eyes and a subtle tune wakes my thinking.

…I've seen your flag on the marble arch,
But love is not a victory march,
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah…

I used to make a step ahead and two back. Why did you hold on to me for so long? When was it, the moment you won over the control that I thought was mine? Was it the morning you wrote to say I was the first thought of your day? Was it the afternoon you yelled about your feeling out loud, making the world hear, making me blush and finally believe you? Was it the sunset on that violet hill, the one I naively imagined to be ours, until a simple note on the wall told me the opposite? I chose to close my eyes and pretend, for the longest time, that I saw a bad dream. I ran away and cried that night, but when you found me red-eyed, I lied about the cause of my tears. I shielded myself from the obvious for too long, fearing the pain it would bring. I let it in slowly, one day at a time, as if giving my body a chance to build up defense against your poison, as if letting my mind come to terms with the bitterness of it. How symbolic, I thought, when they closed our hangout place. I knew it was time for me to leave, long before I had the guts to do so.

…Well, maybe there's a God above,
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you…
It's not a cry that you hear at night,
It's not somebody who's seen the light,
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah…

I have written a short story, and it’s the first one I have ever finished. Short of inspiration, you were the cause of it. See, inspiration is too good of a word to be in one sentence with you. I have been debating for the longest time between posting it and not, and it’s still in the "not" stage. I don’t think I am ready quite yet, because I still remember.

........................................
…And the holy dove was moving too,
And every breath we drew was hallelujah…

I make two steps ahead and one back now, or maybe only half back. This summer has been cleansing, just like that rain. It’s slowly washing away every thought of you, every idea of “us.” It’s been a long time and I think I am ready to feel again.

Please, let me go now.

Currently listening: Chasing Pavements by Adele

Cloud chaser

I’ve been waiting for some water for such a long time here, I bet those sunflowers drying up in the backyard knew how I felt. Since the rain didn’t come get me, I’ll go get the rain.

...off to the Emerald City.
...can’t wait to get inspired again.

Picture credit: RedFraction

Not in love

“Most affections are habits or duties we lack the courage to end.”
~ Henry Millon De Montherlant

I stopped a breath short of loving him in a room where love was no longer present. Only a hint of it has remained, not in his look but in the little heart drawn on my window, long time ago, with someone else’s finger. His attempt of a touch was cold, it was late, it wasn’t sincere. I shivered. Sobriety was filling me up with every new hour of dawn. No matter how hard I held on to Saturday night, Sunday morning was dragging me into its empty stomach, into another time, another room. I choked on the air thick with things unsaid. As I lay there staring at the ceiling, I realized all of a sudden that I didn’t want to hear. I didn’t want to say.

So I let him go.

There goes the story of the night I found out that broken heart doesn’t mix well with tequila, but also discovered the strength in me I didn’t know I had.

I am now free.

* * *

Once in a house on a hill
A boy got angry
He broke into my heart
For a day and a night
I stayed beside him
Until I had no hope
So I came down the hill
Of course I was hurt
But then I started to think
It shouldn't hurt me to be free
It's what I really need
To pull myself together
But if it's so good being free
Would you mind telling me
Why I don't know what to do with myself…

~ Emiliana Torrini

* * *

To me, the image in this post symbolizes freedom. It’s hard to explain and might be even harder to relate to, because no two images are alike as perceived by two minds. I think uniqueness is not cherished enough. I think the gift of it can be most truly appreciated when we’re hastily poured onto canvas of life, mixed with other shades and brush strokes, spilled over blankness of fixed misconceptions and covered with layers of floating understandings. When engulfed by such vortex of existence, blending in means disappearing behind brighter colors of others, dissolving into nothingness. When stirred by trouble, it is our own inner tone, the color of that dream, the melody floating over this thought, the feeling evoked by yesterday’s rain, the way to lovingly wrinkle one’s nose in anger … the only one and impossible to repeat in a million years … that helps us survive.

What do you see?

Dreaming with a broken heart

When you're dreaming with a broken heart,
The waking up is the hardest part,
You roll outta bed and down on your knees
And for the moment you can hardly breathe...

- John Mayer

I roll out and I wonder... were you really here?

You were, just the night before, and after two long weeks of excruciating pain that burned my body and engulfed my thoughts every minute of every day, for a moment there I believed we could actually be happy together. Were you really here, holding my hand, or was it just a sweet dream, a short flashback in my crazy imagination... You came back into my life, but how could I be so wrong as to think that you came to stay? We walked on the grass barefoot. You told me about my nose in your paintings. You reminded me once again how you can touch my heart with the simplest things that you say. As I drove to work, the morning sky reminded me of your palette and I wished I could blend in with it, becoming the perfect tone of your skin, the shape of your cheeks when you give me that kind smile of yours or at least a note in one of your favorite melodies, so you could hum me every now and then.

You gave me hope but you wouldn’t let me anywhere near your heart. I felt slowly falling — the wind rushing though my body like the tiny pieces of broken glass — all the way down, to the very bottom of my pain.

Have I pushed you away that far? I wish you knew all the way that I loved you no matter what I did or said. I wish I didn’t do or say the things that made you run away. I’ll go hide my tears behind the rain, wondering how many more nights I will have to die before I can let you go.

When it rains...

The clouds dragged themselves with a certain difficulty this morning, as if trying to make it home after a night of partying. They struggled to keep their tails above the treetops, slowly pulled west by the wind.

It’s being storming all night and the morning didn’t look like morning at all, I told you as we drove through the wet sleepy city. Distant thunder broke the silence between us, raindrops cut into the windshield like a thousand little needles and the shiny road reflected the streetlights, a wild dance of red and green, and red and green again.

I dropped you off and ran away at 86 per hour. My thoughts were pressing me down to the slippery road, heavy like the clouds over the treetops.

As I sat next to you on the couch last night, I cried inside. I cried because of longing to be with you. I wanted more than anything to hug you or hold your hand but I couldn’t, I had no right. I gave up my right to love you as soon as I chose to follow my reason and silence my heart. I pushed you away pretending to kill my feelings, but all I really did was chase them away into the deepest corners of my heart, making them hide temporarily. They now lurk out in the shape of little flames that burn so painfully. Whom am I fooling?

Rainy

One thousand falls,

One thousand rains,

You touched my eyes,

Rushed through my veins,

Then left me standing on the slopes,

Touching the leaves,

Counting the drops,

Cold rains and dreams,

And muddled streams,

No sign of hopes.