I stay in this bar wondering how much I could pay to forget. I don’t regret the clothes; I’d sell them all and be naked. It can’t get colder than I feel now, and the cold wouldn’t force me to rest any more than the pain I keep in the space between the glass and my lips. Invisible and levitating.
It burns more than pure alcohol and holds the deceptive hope of pain, like drops falling on a stone, I imagine two worlds separated by a huge precipice, in one you are and not in the other, and I have the feeling that it cannot live either.
“I’m saying this so you don’t tell me what’s going on. Do I know the way, thank you?”
And that’s how I met him; he was behind the counter and I was trying to find an end to my drama. He thought I was drowning in pain and I put myself in the shoes of the character I later imitated. Word for word, letter by letter.
In this character I locked all my fears and the words I used to make his cartoon, but they only served me to escape from a place I do not know, now I find myself in another bar and my heart breaks into a thousand pieces, so small that they make me invisible.
I’m like a cruel truth, someone you’d only present after you’ve discarded as many ideas as possible so you don’t have to, so you don’t have to get to that point where everything blows up in the air and you realize there’s no turning back.
Although you do not know all the secrets of the world, you are sure that none will be able to repair the evil of your last fall. Dry, deaf and innocent on the outside. That’s when love begins to become a bubble that you cannot touch, or stop looking at, until it bursts into the worst of silences.
In the meantime, you’re trying to find a way to tell everyone that the person you were defending until yesterday is no longer the same, and you can’t do it anymore because that role is no longer yours. That’s how little reality settles, it gradually arrives like waves on the beach and between tide and tide there are nights to think about.
Without looking at the clock, I suddenly get the feeling that it’s too late and that the server that started cleaning the last tables won’t be the inspiration for my next life.
However, a horrible laziness invades me. Going home with an eye on what’s behind it, opening the door, undressing and heating the cold sheets makes me a day-to-day life in my world that worries me.
I pay for the daily tours and go out on the street, it’s frozen and it’s easy to slide. I see a lion drawn on an illuminated sign and wonder what I would do if I went on a date now. Then I remember that I am invisible and that nothing could worry me.
A voice in me calls me a liar. Tears begin, one by one, to draw footprints on my cheeks, so as I break the silence of the streets with my footsteps and recognize a piece of my heart like mine, I begin to fear the lion.
Realizing that life still has things to take away from me, I conclude that there are still things to live on.
Then the dream invades me, do I start to think about the protagonist of my next story?
Image credits: bruneiwska