Revelation - Revisited
I am a jerk. I never cry. Maybe right after I was 20. And for some indistinct points and reasons, I never leaked tears thereafter. I found there wasn’t any need for me to drip the liquid from my eye, for it never neither healed nor solved anything.
And I did break into tears just now. The images of the one I loved flashed in front of my eyes. It was unstoppable like a sequence of static photos being played on an old wrecked projector where everything was monochromatic. Not more than two colors. I saw the day I smeared the ice cream on his face, left him ‘chocolate’, a different color of what he normally looked like. And I was running on the meadow and he was chasing on the warm Sunday morning where the sun was never as bright as it was, dispersing a spectrum of wonderful colors from the droplet of the water at the tip of the green grass. And he tripped me on my feet where I stumbled and rolled and left the choc all over of my face and he hugged me from my back and laughed and kept on laughing.
It sounds so fantasy.
So happy where remorse was nothing more than a sulky look of mine.
Every second was a dose of ecstasy and every passing day was like hallucinating.
Life so impeccable I had no images of what did it look like if it was over.
But the reality was I happened to taste every single bit of it.
It wasn’t a flight of the imagination in the first place.
It was a dust of memory. There was a lot more to be reminisced. Like a series of numbers from 1 to a zillion. 1 being the first and the zillion was the very last fragment of memory I had with him. And one couldn’t argue that the former was the sweetest and the latter was the hardest.
For whatever reason, it was beyond my capacity to understand why every A has to be ended with a Z. Being shielded with his empathy and his love; lust didn’t exist in our diaries. I guessed there were no rules to turn everything ok. He was with his own stupid life and I was indulging mine. And we just knew that we were tied up together and that was what made us thrived, at least for more than a couple of years.
If you ever watched any movies and you saw two lovebirds sharing everything together and were so happy like there wasn’t no one else lived in this world, had you have any thoughts, how will it be ended? Be it a marriage, having children with a look of two of them, seeing those kids growing, possessing a girlfriend or a boyfriend, went home with excellent SAT scores, entered well renowned university, graduated, got hitched and left home, gave them grandkids and if god permits, they’ll live up to the point where breathing was nothing more than a struggle to get living and then died.
Where was the happy part in the end? His/her spouse died eventually and I presume that burying someone you loved wasn’t something enjoyable. There was no pleasure to the conclusion of a long winding story.
And so was my story. He did leave me. For no clear reason.
I guess love is nothing more than a journey of getting engaged in a relationship, taste it – if it is bitter, spit it out; if it is sweet, suck it to the last bit and SPIT IT OUT, eventually.
Find another one and suck again, up until your last breath where ending is nothing more than a mournful and gloomy day for someone that loves you.
And I did break into tears just now. The images of the one I loved flashed in front of my eyes. It was unstoppable like a sequence of static photos being played on an old wrecked projector where everything was monochromatic. Not more than two colors. I saw the day I smeared the ice cream on his face, left him ‘chocolate’, a different color of what he normally looked like. And I was running on the meadow and he was chasing on the warm Sunday morning where the sun was never as bright as it was, dispersing a spectrum of wonderful colors from the droplet of the water at the tip of the green grass. And he tripped me on my feet where I stumbled and rolled and left the choc all over of my face and he hugged me from my back and laughed and kept on laughing.
It sounds so fantasy.
So happy where remorse was nothing more than a sulky look of mine.
Every second was a dose of ecstasy and every passing day was like hallucinating.
Life so impeccable I had no images of what did it look like if it was over.
But the reality was I happened to taste every single bit of it.
It wasn’t a flight of the imagination in the first place.
It was a dust of memory. There was a lot more to be reminisced. Like a series of numbers from 1 to a zillion. 1 being the first and the zillion was the very last fragment of memory I had with him. And one couldn’t argue that the former was the sweetest and the latter was the hardest.
For whatever reason, it was beyond my capacity to understand why every A has to be ended with a Z. Being shielded with his empathy and his love; lust didn’t exist in our diaries. I guessed there were no rules to turn everything ok. He was with his own stupid life and I was indulging mine. And we just knew that we were tied up together and that was what made us thrived, at least for more than a couple of years.
If you ever watched any movies and you saw two lovebirds sharing everything together and were so happy like there wasn’t no one else lived in this world, had you have any thoughts, how will it be ended? Be it a marriage, having children with a look of two of them, seeing those kids growing, possessing a girlfriend or a boyfriend, went home with excellent SAT scores, entered well renowned university, graduated, got hitched and left home, gave them grandkids and if god permits, they’ll live up to the point where breathing was nothing more than a struggle to get living and then died.
Where was the happy part in the end? His/her spouse died eventually and I presume that burying someone you loved wasn’t something enjoyable. There was no pleasure to the conclusion of a long winding story.
And so was my story. He did leave me. For no clear reason.
I guess love is nothing more than a journey of getting engaged in a relationship, taste it – if it is bitter, spit it out; if it is sweet, suck it to the last bit and SPIT IT OUT, eventually.
Find another one and suck again, up until your last breath where ending is nothing more than a mournful and gloomy day for someone that loves you.
Comments
I like the 'why every A has to be ended with a Z' part. Its soooo my life! hahaha
Nigel