Sunday, August 9, 2015


I spent last night in a forest with my friends. It was a perfect night despite the struggle between the dark and us. I'm not going to complain more about it because that was what I wanted. A dark calm night, like the crickets love their forest. Lets go back to yesterday. I let my windows open, it is an old school window where you have to use a certain wood for a stand. My eyes travel over the trees a lot. I pursue the pattern of each tree to its last convolution, noticing every mark of age. My fingers are too busy examining whatever it is touching. I've already captured some photos earlier. Towards evening I sit alone in the room, not bothering my friend who is having a great time with her boyfriend at the resting place, an old wooden table with three chairs, I saw a big grasshopper there earlier. I happened calmly to glance into the interior of the room, the walls are see through. Not obvious but I can see the outlines of a movement outside. There's a cross on top of the bed which I took down after. In my mind, I could die in the room tonight, it is old, creepy and beautiful.

That's for a start. Nothing much happened besides chilling until 3AM while they were drunk and I joined the crazy happiness. And no, I wasn't drinking, I promise. I didn't had a good sleep because a friend of mine encountered a ghost outside and her boyfriend and her sisters boyfriend had to sleep with us. I was alone, for sure. Wasn't that sad? A couple on the bed, another couple on top of my head and then there's me, with my blanket. Well, at least they felt safe and I was okay.

I am a total abyss.
And there is nothing left but the voluminous abysses, the immobility, the cold.

I am no longer in a relationship. We decided to separate, ending our 2 years of relationship. Something touched me, something that made me think about part of us which insists on drawing profiles on prison walls. Oh, I do have feelings for him, still. I could tell you about his scars, his veins, his hair and his expressions. I could talk about it all night long, but I better not. 

"Goodnight, I would love to hear your voice sometimes."
"Goodnight, call me too."

I've never heard about him, since. I haven't deleted or change anything yet. I will when I am okay. Our meaning has been lost. But it was then that for the first time I perceived the presence of that thing I didn't understand which had something to do with happiness and memory, and towards which slowly, heavily I began to walk. In the past,when I had a pain and it passed away, I was happy; now I am merely relieved, while there is this bitter feeling in me 'only to be well again, nothing more'.

I have a question. What if we awake one day, all of us... and find ourselves utterly unable to read?

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