She's

She's always there. Even though you can rarely catch a fleeting glimpse of her. Hidden in the finer points of the night. Dressed in darkness.

She's never said a word yet somehow speaks to you. Uses language that has no words but is full of meaning. Evokes a mental response. Awakens.

She's turning sounds that don't exist into audible breath of a morning breeze. She's well aware you're longing for this soothing relief. She delivers.

She's an ocean you sink into. Impenetrable depths of green. Can't begin to guess what lies beyond. Can't imagine.

She's cold fire. She consumes you yet your body and mind remain unscorched. She lits you up as if you were a solitary beacon stood at the brink of a cliffside. Pulls you back.

She's leading you somewhere. You're crawling in desperate search of her subtle footsteps. Hypnotized. Spellbound. You don't panic. She won't let you.

She knows you'll find them. Find her. It's inevitable.

What's the deal with her? Is it all just a game? To her? Is she real? Is any of this even real? Are you...

Melody

It's an echo. This loud, familiar, repetitive sound.

THE sound. THE echo.

It's been here before. It always comes back.

We know it all too well.

After all, it made us into what we are today.


Way before we heard it we were shapeless.

Featureless objects floating in the water.

Flat like its surface.

Nothing deep about us.

Our fates yet to be determined.


Until we clashed.

Drifted for so long we were bound to clash.

That's when the sound happened.

It carried over the water, through the air, into the deeps.

We were left in awe... We woke up into the world.

Afraid of the unknown. Excited by the unknown.

Accompanied by the sound.


Way back then it was a melody.

I remember it to be a melody.

A masterfully composed collage of meaningful notes.

Every one of them was special.

Precious. Timeless. Glorious.

It kept on moulding us patiently.

Sculpting us and teaching how to live.

Day by day.


Until it crashed.

Something broke it, broke the record.

We didn't know when or how or why.

Woke up to it being reduced into the echo.

The echo we're hearing now. Just a snippet.

On an endless loop.

A faded memory. Shadow in the distance.

We're never getting back what we've lost that time.

We can only listen to a fraction of it.

Separately. It no longer binds us.

Hearing it is like putting a glass shard to our ears.

It cuts deep.

Constant reminder of days past.

Of what we've lost.


I wish it would stop.

I want it gone. Gone for good. All of it.

All what's left of it.

So I'm trying to get rid of it by myself.

No luck yet.

But I think... with a bit of help...

From someone else out there.

One day I will listen to a full melody again.

Even make it my own one.

If I can be so bold.

A better one.

With a bit of help.

Compose it with someone.

Our own melody.

End

He wasn't told to go away.

He was chewed up and spat out.

Out of the window.

Sent plummeting towards his demise.

Face down into a brick road.

Yet somehow survived.

Bid his time.

Climbed back up.

Kept knockin' on the window.

Pleadin'.

Hopin'.

They closed the shutters.

Crushed his fingers.

Sent him flying down... again.

How many times can he fall?

How many times can anyone fall?

Someday he will stop.

Cease to exist.

Sooner or later.

Sooner.

Become extinguished.



Everything has an end.

His end is the end of his everything.

His everything will be the end of him.

Different

I've missed things when I was away. Things you take for granted. Things I used to take for granted.

I had plenty of time. All the time in the world. Seconds were hours that felt like days. There was nothing else to do but miss things and shift my mind into imagination. So there I was, thinking and breathing and forgetting myself time and time again. Stepping outside of myself and venturing. 

I pictured myself in a field when I closed my eyes. I could see myself walking among wheats, touching them with my fingertips. The sun was shining. It was blinding. A solar flare was ever-present in my sight. I didn't mind. I liked it. It gave me a sensation of warmth. Something I've missed so much. One of many things. Tip of the iceberg.

Now that I'm back I don't feel it the same way. I always knew deep inside me that it would be different. I thought it would be better. That's the truth. When I felt it again, really felt it, I was left wanting. Wanting more from it, demanding it to match my expectations.

It's not its fault. I guess my expectations were skewed by years of solitude. My imagination added certain features, enhanced the picture. It helped at the time. It allowed me to fight off desperation and hopelesness. For that I'll forever be greatful.

But as I lay down now, back here, I close my eyes yet again and drift...

Seconds become hours that feel like days.

There's the familiar warmth. Not the real one. The one that's exclusive to me.

It's not leaving me anytime soon.

Try again

I didn't mind the rain that night. I didn't even feel it on me. I just saw it with my eyes as I was making my way through it.

When you walk in a trance, your mind fixed on the goal, you lose connection with your nerve endings. They go numb. They hide, dulled, they know it's not their time.

You can walk for miles and not feel anything. No pain in your body, no fatigue, no distractions.

Time slows down when you're walking like that. Slow motion and blurriness take over. A filter is applied to your screen. Your eyes. You see things you normally don't pay attention to. Things you're unable to see because your mind's wanderin'. You're looking at a film reel, frame by frame. I could see raindrops descending onto my face. I could see reflections of myself in falling water.

That didn't matter one bit. It only added to the theme. A mere decoration.

I kept making my way through the tunnel. A tunnel of focused thoughts that rearranged the surroundings, morphed them into a unified block of colors and shapes. Trees, buildings, people, air, life, every atom, every particle were more or less one entity. A collage.

They made for a border. A perimeter. If you would ever get distracted and breached it, you would fall.

You would lose. Kind of. You would lose the sight of your goal. For a brief moment you would see it being swept away. A result of your carelessness.

I've been there.

I've fallen.

Many times. Down the abyss.

It hurts more when you're falling down than when you finally hit the ground. It's when you see the path through your desperately outstretched palm, it hurts the most. You see it slipping away. Fading in the distance.

At least when you hit the bottom you know you've reached the low point. A point from which you can only build up. So you gather yourself. You can curse under your nose all you want. I know I have. It's a long fucking journey. You dust off your clothes and start the climb. Make your way back up again. Take a deep breath. Enter the tunnel. Try again.

It's not easy. I takes an insurmountable toll. But it's all there is. You try again. I try again.

Focus on the goal. Give it all you've got. No matter the cost. Make your way through the rain.