Hello sadness

 I have to befriend sadness, there is no point of resisting it, it is stupid to try to push it away if my days and nights. I welcome you to my life, I don’t have a specific routine, but please try to be gentle in your visits, can you give me signs that you are approaching me. Sadness, as you know, I’m obliged to do things, to deal with people and finish work. So, please don’t slap me suddenly, don’t paralyze me amidst what I’m doing, I don’t claim that I’m doing anything important, but crying in a crowd can’t and wont be justified. Sadness, I’m approaching half a century and I must admit that we have never met before, some people envy me for this, anyway let’s have a friendly relationship. I surrendered to you, it took me a while, but it happened, I just need to be ready to receive you, host you and share my moments with you. I know that it’s a personal journey, one that I can’t get advices or recommendations from friends, I’m not haggling here, I told you I surrendered, but as we will be friends, please tell me what should I expect, what will change after embracing you and quitting the hopeless resistance. You know that I’m tired, you have been there from the start, you saw how I tried to conceal you with memories, fake laughs and neutral messages, but nothing worked, I must admit you are grander than any other feeling that surrounded me lately. I have mistaken you for despair, and sometimes for bitterness or other emotions, but you are here hugging me tightly and introducing yourself as true sadness, my life parter for my coming days. You are profound, strong and attentive, I thought that you would be slightly passive or absent minded but, no, you comment on every scene, melody or sigh, you hit me, just to live and relive the pain again and again. Should I be grateful? Anyway, as I told you there i am don’t with questions, and from now on I will follow your instructions, I will cry, shout, and collapse based on the strength of your hits, I’m not expecting you to be merciful, and I will stop questioning the time needed for a full transition. I will be a sad person, ok, I have met a few of them, my eyes will loose that sparkle when excited or happy, the wrinkles will deepen and draw a map of loss, and my tone will change too. Sadness, I’m ready, welcome to my life. 

Your version of the story

 

Tell me your version of the story. I have been talking for so long, I told you the story several times, from every angle, I analyzed although I’m not that kind of person, or I tried to analyze. I tried to understand, anyway, I have been trying to recall all our moments, stitch assumptions together and come up with excuses for what has happened, or what did not happen. Now I have to shut up, step back, sit and listen to your version. 

For god’s sake speak, tell me, even for the last time. Tell me what happened to you, how did you see the story, how did you see me from the beginning till the end, is there an end, I mean are we now post- the end? I told you I will shut up, but I just want to throw all my questions. You once told me that your silence is an answer, and I have to admit that it is a very cruel answer. When you are silent you give the impression that you really don’t care, or that I’m not that worthy of an answer or of a conversation. Conversations mean that at least two people are interacting with each other, I have been in my endless lonely long monologues and I miss listening to you. Done with your polite scented es about the weather, the prices and the news, I want one of these phone calls to be about our love. No, about your love, whether it was super short, an illusion or a miss calculated move. I will be listening, scream, curse and cry, I’ll listen to all of this. Accuse me of anything and I’ll be patient, I will not interrupt you, I will not provoke you, I will listen and will do my best to understand. Don’t try to justify things, feelings are not justifiable, be yourself or be the relaxed and more spontaneous version of yourself. Don’t worry about being blunt, this won’t hurt me, I think I’m already dead, the dead don’t feel hurt. 

Are you wondering why do I need to listen to you? I don’t have a logical answer, and darling, you adore logic, it’s not curiosity, it’s not self lashing, or May be it’s a mixture of both plus other bloody things that I don’t even know how to describe them. I am trying to forget you, I am really trying, but as I keep monitoring every feeling, I am aware that I’m fooling myself, there is no way to forget you. So, what I’m going through now is a new phase, a phase where I question every mood I pass through, and my moods are endless these days. I’m easily distracted, always lingering between memories, dreams and lies. Yes, I’m lying a lot these days, about silly things, is this a side effect? No one ever mentioned that those defeated in love start to lie, maybe I’m trying to create a different reality, a world of me own, where I give life to the incidents that I wanted. I never lied on you, I wish I did, I wish I was smarter and ….. I should stop talking now and listen to you, please tell me your version of the story. 

I betrayed my people

 

“I’m just a man who wanted to be loved” I said this while laughing with a stranger. How awkward? I let him step forward in the long cashier queue, so he smiled and said that I’m a good man. That was my answer! Was it a moment of enlightenment, did I really realize all of a sudden that the whole story was because of my need to be loved? But you initiated the whole thing, you, not me. I’m not crazy, I mean I wasn’t crazy at that time, now, I’m the king of all crazy men. I mean at that time I was aware that you were cool, elegant, lovely and that I’m simple out of your league. So I did not dream or even dare to dream of loving you. I looked up to you as millions of mobs treat celebrities. There were no hopes, hence no pain. The phone calls started to be more frequent and it was obvious that the interest was mutual and that it was growing. As inexperienced I am, I surrendered, I confessed and I drowned in your love. Was it my fault? Was it your fault? Did you even love me or was I just an amusing game for your ego? There is no point of finding an answer and I don’t know why I’m telling you this, maybe I’m trying to escape from a maze of bitterness. I don’t want to be bitter, pathetic or vulnerable are ok, if this is what people see, let them say so, but bitterness is different. I want to keep the beauty and bliss of our love, I want to enjoy every memory and surprisingly I want to look up to you as a celebrity, just the way I used to when I first met you. I know that one day I’ll prefer silence than this redundant chatter but until I reach that phase I want to tell you everything and I want you to live and relive all these contradicting emotions. Speaking of emotions, don’t you think that my love was too much to handle, as if it was out of this world, maybe you saw it as a burden or even a problem. You were suddenly slapped by my decades-old thirst for love, you were shocked and concerned while I was smiling naively and sending you Fairouz songs. While I was euphoric you were trying to understand where this love was dragging you. I ruined everything by my foolish attitude, and I can’t blame you for being rational amid all this madness. I broke the rules, all the rules, those of love and those of gender, I betrayed my people…. Hahaha, hence none of my friends is showing any empathy. I exposed our vulnerability, I said what we never allow ourselves to say, I lingered when we should have moved on and I keep whining when we were trained to deny. Maybe I’m now receiving the curses of all men, the machos and the losers, all those men who see me as a traitor to our attitudes in love and relationships. Anyway, as I have always told you, I did not plan anything from the start. 

You were not here

 

I had an event tonight, one of these presentations that I usually give but the auditorium was enormous. I was looking for you among the audience, just one of my games to pacify myself or to live in my “what if “ world. I sent you a message a couple of days ago about the event. You did not answer for ages, then you sent me “ Good Luck”, just these 8 letters. Sometimes I hate English, I see it as a cold language, incapable of conveying emotions or even indifferent to do so. Did you think a lot before sending your eloquent message? Did it need a lot of energy? Would adding a smiley face or any other emoji drain you? A few months ago I would have sent you endless selfies, I would have complained about the suit, and repeated that the presentation would have been more genuine if I was allowed to be in my boxers, T shirt and bare footed. I would have made sure that you are attending online, and as soon as I finish I would call you to get your feedback. After the event we would meet, eat gateaux while you analyze each and every sentence that I said, agree with some and disagree with more. Ah, I forgot, before the event you would have sent me several messages reminding me to speak slowly and not to rush. I’m gazing at the audience, imagining you sitting in the middle, smiling. Remember when I told you how your beautiful eyes sparkle when you smile. Remember how many times I told you that I love your smile. I keep going, I say what I have to say, I pause every now and then remembering your advices, I look at the same spot, where you would have been sitting, not in the very first rows and not in the very last ones, and not in the sides, you won’t leave until I’m done so you don’t need to sit by the aisles. The slides are flipping quickly, maybe I talked quickly, maybe I should slower down a bit. Unfortunately you won’t tell me your thoughts after the event. You are not here, I don’t know where are you now and it won’t be appropriate to ask. I’m done, maybe there will be a question or two, I wish you were here, I wish I was allowed to ask one question, just one question, I would have asked you, “what happened to our love”.

1001 whispers

 Every night before I sleep, I send you 1001 whispers. I imagine them flying to you, a trail of beautifully written “I love you” connecting us, cheerful melodies reminding you that I love you. Maybe they turn into a string of tiny bright stars. I follow them, imagine the distances separating us, and the journey my whispers have to take every night. I love you. That is all what I feel, an enormous feeling that makes both of us helpless. I can’t describe my love and you can’t understand it. It grew up till it became a burden, became bigger than us and our comprehension. Your love became a whole world, the world that I escape to it every night to whisper “ I love you” 1001 times before I fail to sleep. How would I sleep if I keep recalling our moments again and again. I smile, I sigh and I surrender to tears. I keep wishing you happiness as if I turned into a goddess of motherhood or as if I became an angel in another dimension. But of course I’m wishing you happiness, but I don’t delve into the details of your coming love story, I’m not a saint and I’m not that sane. 

My coming life

 

What would your love turn me in my coming life? May I choose? Can I be your guardian angel? Will this allow me to be with you 24/7, gaze at you, listen to your whispers and sighs, will I be able to read your mind? Can i? It would be just fair after all what I have been through. I wait for the night to fall, to withdraw from the chaos surrounding me, go to bed, wait for you in my dreams. I think about you and me, I change the scenarios, some nights I sleep, but most nights are sleepless. If only I can be with you, as a soul, as a feeling or even as a memory. Isn’t it that strange, that my love is dying for recognition? My love wants you to feel it, acknowledge it and keep it alive with you. Consider it an ancient relic, a magical  amulet or just a souvenir of some happy days. Can I vanish, all of my being, everything about me, except my love for you. I will willingly dive into the oceans of oblivion, I’ll disappear with all what I said, did or felt, except your love, I mean my love for you. 

Can I be a bunch of dreams in my coming life? To visit you every now and then, to comfort you in the lonely nights or to remind you of blurry yet beautiful memories. May be I can be melancholic melodies in my coming life? Something that make you smile, sigh, remember love while gazing at the trees. I remember how we both loved trees and how we would talk for hours about that shrub or that flower. May be I can be your favorite color, your favorite flower, a fresh breeze whenever it’s hot. Can I be anything that keeps you in a wonderful mood? If I can’t be any of these things, would not it be more merciful not have a coming life?

What is happening?

 I don’t understand what’s happening. This is not new, but for the last couple of days I feel dead, not numb, not indifferent but dead. Also, it is not that feeling when you step back and let the autopilot take the lead, not as if you are monitoring life floating around you, no, I feel dead. It is neither a bad nor a good feeling, but honestly it is strange. You think of all the consequences and at the same time you think of nothing at all. What if(s) seem silly, although they used to be the pillars of my sanity, now, I don’t understand how I feel separated from everything and everyone. I should claim my Oscar, I am amazed by my ability to act as if everything is ok, as if I’m still here, still engaging in the boredom of life, the mediocrity of work, finances, social media and the deterioration of our world. 

I didn’t surrender, I was persistent till the last breath, but I don’t know what happened, maybe I am just betraying myself? A new punishment, or another loss. Did the lover die? Am I to be left with all the other human lumps…. What a nightmare! May be he didn’t die, maybe he is dying, he consumed all his strength, hope and positivity, he wasted himself in love, or in his heroic attempts to understand the essence of it, and its secrets. Did he take all the memories with him? Am I left alone, totally alone? Will he visit me again! 

What is happening? Nobody went there, to the other bank of life, the other edge, the other shore, the other side, the other life, no body told us what’s there, what is waiting for us. Is it like this, is this death? Is it the state where the best in you and the best of you leave? So what remains of you is almost nothing, a soulless body, without the sufficient amount of memories and emotions to keep you going. Is that it? Am I supposed to keep going in this state? How and why? How can he leave, like this, without a proper goodbye? Again, without a proper goodbye. If these are my first official steps towards total madness, then I will not panic, I will be patient, and keep acting that everything is alright. I will finish sending these emails and then I will eat something.