I will call

I will call

I have to call. It doesn’t make sense, all what happened does not make sense. I said that what we have is so precious, ok, let me fight for it. What will happen? What are my options? No answer at all, a super cold answer that will embarrass me for several lives to come, or a rational answer reminding me that the right decision was taken. I wasn’t involved in the process but the decision was taken.

I have been obedient throughout my life, obedient at work, obedient within the family rules, obedient within each and every system imposed on me and us. May I rebel now, even for one single time. Just to say that I can’t live like this. I don’t know how. Dignity and self-respect…. Shhhh, these concepts do not make sense, I was lost in love, at last I was lost in love. It is not a tango between two different personalities. What does self-respect mean now, in this specific moment? Ok, I woke up full of self-respect and devoid of any other feeling. Obedience, self-respect, or just quitting. I have an impressive reputation of being a BIG quitter, yes. Also known as someone who does not confront. What is right and what is wrong? How can a phone call be that crucial, no not crucial, may be its just revealing? They say love recreates you, forms you in different ways. I don’t know what to do.

Everything seemed perfect, the whole thing seemed beyond perfection. Last time we were sitting on the floor surrounded by old photos, laughing, recalling memories and making fun of other people littering the photos. I repeated many times, may be about every photo, “This is a very beautiful photo… you are very photogenic”. My compliments, which were not compliments at all, but spontaneous responses, just like breathing, blinking or even stuttering. A magical moment, sharing memories, laughing, gossiping, sitting next to each other on the floor, we knew that both of us were exerting a tremendous effort not to disappear in a mist of kisses.

Were these illusions? All these happy moments, that seemed logical, that seemed natural, that seemed to be our right. This is Day two, and I am drowning in this devastating whirlpool. Anything apart from writing about my feelings seems trivial, lame or unnecessary. Writing is all what I have now, as I can’t talk about what happened, what would I say? No one will understand. It is snot me, these agitating feelings were never expected from me, at least that was how I succeeded in portraying myself to other. So, you have been acting all your life, so what is new, keep acting, what is new? You will master the new character, you will be able to hide the new wound, it will swallow you, it will be your new cocoon, it will shape you, and reshape you and reshape you for 1001 times, till you forget who you are. I am in the middle of a burning metamorphosis, I am in the aching act of recreation, all what I think about, are these beautiful moments, the laughs, the bla bla bla, the singing with loud strange voices and a totally mixed-up lyrics, the WhatsApp messages, discussing the routine, the political topics that we agreed to postpone for a while not to add to our misery.

Will a phone call resurrect all these beautiful moments, and put all the postponed plans back in place, the movie nights, the trips abroad, and the museum visits? Now I have to go to work, because nothing happened, just another ordinary day in the ordinary life of an ordinary man. Because for everyone who knows me nothing has happened, the same dull feelings of fake gratitude and contentment. No, I have known better feelings, more genuine feelings, I have tasted the real bittersweet taste of life, and it was brief, so brief and I want more, I need more.