Bubble wrap for fragile souls

Party leftovers

Stuck on our soles

As we walk back to reality

The morning after

Life never waits for you

You may get some time off

But next thing you know

You're back on track

Chained to an ongoing illusion

Manufactured by perception

You get a quick shower

Water rinsing the scent

Of strangers and cigarettes

The dirt of mingling

Soon you have to run

And pretend you can function

Cruel sunlight barely there

On days you can only fight

With a cup extra tall

Filled with your medicine of choice

This brown substance

Deferring in tone

Depending on how seriously

You take yourself

That you learned to like

When they pinned the label

Spelling adult

On your forehead

Bags under your eyes

A tell tale of your sins

Deep enough to accommodate

Your unrealistic dreams

As you battle against tiredness

And the poor choices made

A result of a youth

Aching, waiting to be lived

Your soul dies a little

From the imbalances

Between obligations and wants

You try and tell yourself

That everybody struggles

That generations bloom

In the shadows of gloom

Weeknights in bars

With a shared sense of forbidden

Maybe we're on this together

And maybe we're not bionic

And never will be superhumans

Just some of us smell of liquor

And others of raspberries

Depending on the definition

I need a lesson in fluidity

To sand those rigid corners down

To secure there'll be no bruises

As I stumble around

I need a class in flexibility

To learn the gentle curve

That has the ability

To turn full-stops into commas

I'm terrified of change

A heavy soul tying me down

Terrible at moving

A heavy body securing me bound

I spend my days worrying

That as time goes by

I've become an entitled wannabe

That never so much as try

I'm hidden like a bookmark

Lost among the pages

Always keeping track

Of non-existent progress

Those words I'm keeping safe

,Titles I shouldn't live by,

Take up space in my head

As I postpone writing mine

I need to be more mobile

More of a cellphone than a landline

So I hold back

Cause it's all I know

For bittersweet uncertainty

I will miss structure the most, waking up with a purpose. This habit of waking up somewhere different each day, seeing the same familiar people around you, choosing an outfit from a handful of options, and then swim at a sea of kind strangers, polishing and nourishing your your ego. Then some well rehearsed lines and some spontaneous banter, a fun sequence of funny and deep. Oh and food. Very good food, new options every day, fulfilling even the strangest of cravings, tying the entire day in a nice delicious ribbon. Most importantly, all of these and more, with him. With the person I desperately wanted to be and the person I so desperately want to be with.

My sense of what home is lives in a dark corner on my mind I rarely visit. There’s a history of inexplicable loneliness and an all consuming fear that goes hand in hand with this vague idea of home. I’ve tried to understand it and maybe smile to it, as it manifests in new ways, inspired by this crazy life I lead. Home used to mean shouting, isolation, a suffocating sense of duty to make everything seem alright again, and loads and loads of shame. Shame for who I am, shame for who I wish I was, shame for who I want to be. It took a lot of long conversations, oceans of tears and two tireless hands always holding me tight, lulling me into a sense of security, to break, a step at a time, this circle of shame.

Then I saw that home meant comfort. Not necessarily in the “I feel comforted here” way, even though he always strived for that, but always in the “I’m comfortable being here, just being” way. My guard took an awfully long time to lower, and I’m sure there’s a lot left, a lot to be desired. But when it’s just us, in the comfort of a remote space, even when it’s just us behind a closed door, I’m home.

My home is fingers touching, it’s a thigh sitting close to mine in a big full room, it’s checking in with me when i distance myself, it’s a cup of tea I desperately needed and still didn't have to ask for. It’s those gorgeous full lips dancing with mine, it’s the effortless choreography of our bodies underneath unraveled sheets, it’s a four letter word that found a meaning for the first time at a train station.

We’re traveling so much these days, and our schedule is hectic. There’s always stuff to get done, long checklists awaiting, people saying “Go go go!” at various tones at various times of the day. And we go, and we do and we run, and it’s glorious and it’s chaotic and it’s fun. Each city means new adventures, new faces, new reasons to be grateful for and fresh validation. It’s strange and amazing that we get to do this. See the world, see the people, experience the excitement and get excited all over again. It is so much more than a job. It is a life changing experience most people will never get to live, let alone live twice. To some extent, I’m two different people living each of the tours, with an extra bonus of experience that I may have inherited. I feel like such a stranger to the tatinof Dan. I understand him now, and if I’m honest I do so much better than himself, even as he was doing all these things I know he did. His motives were different, his goals were different, his relationship with himself was different. One thing was mostly the same, though. His idea of home. Home was a person. Home was his person, Phil.

It feels a bit silly, all this introspection, coming from the back seat of a car, in our second to last tour destination. He’s finally asleep, leaning on my shoulder, and this closeness makes everything I’m writing about fall into place. It’s this invisible bubble that has room only for too, and envelops us with care. It’s not that special of a scene. It’s us, sitting impossibly close, dozing off at the back seat, another one of these nights we spend driving, soon to be awake again, but in a different location. All these cities we’re leaving behind, some of them to never be seen again. All these cities we slept through and we’ll never even know the names of. All these cities we visited for just a handful of hours, only to leave behind again. Geography working its tireless reality around us, while we’re just drawing straight lines on new maps.

The stories I have to offer fade always to grey. The bright moments are few and far between, like the kick of salted caramel at the heart of a bitter chocolate. It's golden and liquid and unique, and reminds you to take the good with the bad. I could put nice filters on dull images, to make them look like something you'd love to experience. And I guess there's some skill in capturing some beauty with a lense. Framing reality nicely for mass consumption, feasting on illusions to tame the hunger. You can't fool a starving heart for long. You can promise it fancy dinners, roasting some faith on a pan, but it'll always know you try to get away with offering a snack.

I have things to tell you if you were to listen. I could talk to you for hours on end about the way I choose to frame the world, what's currently wrong in my part on the galaxy and how much I need to feel like a part of the universe. And maybe, if I feel like it, or you treat my nostalgia to sugar and wine, I could tell you how utterly heartbroken it makes me seeing the naked winter branches of the trees in front of my house chopped away come spring. And if bravery or sadness goes to my head, I could confess to how much I feel as me and those trees are one. People interfering, cutting away what they think we don't need, sitting back and staring eagerly as if saying "I gave you all I thought you need, now do your best and bloom for me".

I think I just stepped on a different dimension, it looked awfully like a busy street the morning after a restful night. A cautiously masked alien, running on minimum sleep, blending in with the purposeful.

I was walking, a sprint against a ticking clock, a face drained from life while others screamed a cause.

Crisp morning air has a certain violence to it. It's cold and determined to wake you, it whispers duties in your ears. It slaps your face relentlessly, leaving a blush that marks a start.

Frantically walking, on a mission to rectify past mistakes, I was soon attacked by the overwhelming freshness of breakfasts ready to happen. Bakeries, filling the streets with the aroma of baked goods. It's a strange controversy, the frosty air and the heartwarming scent, magic potions tucked in puff pastry, to get you through the day. It reminded me of everything, and everything has this tendency to stab my chest every time I recall it.

I'm scared of morning people. I want to grab their shoulders and shake them and ask them, how can they be so put together, in such an hour. Productivity is sprinkled on their coats like dandruff, they shake it around and it never actually leaves them. I'm scared at how ready they look, to face such an early start.

I keep my hands in my pockets. And I could say it's because it's cold, or that it helps me stand a bit more straight, but I'd only give you half the truth. In fact, I'm clenching my feasts. I'm closing and hiding in my palms a valuable nothingness. I know that what I'm protecting it's probably not worth it. I'm not even sure there's something that I need to protect. Even so, I close it in my arms to keep it safe.

There's cruelty in the light. Light has been so unforgiving. My heart felt exposed and the pain found its way in me, like sun invades everything when comes morning.

I hold dark dearly. It's in the palms of my hands, demanding, screaming. "I've kept you company. I forgave you. I comforted you. I'm what you know best." I can hear it, I can feel, making its claim on me, picking parts of me apart, just as harshly as light once did.

I know where I am. Familiar footsteps on well known streets, just half an hour away from my cocoon. And even so, I never felt so utterly lost. There was a consciousness aware of the happenings, familiar with everything, duty as a compass. But my soul. Oh my soul. Taking in everything, yet feeling nothing, nothing at all. People were threats and bakeries were oppressive and birds were announcing a light that scared me.

I used to be one of them. Up with the first burst of sunlight, off to be productive, presented with no other choice but working. Am I supposed to always look like I'm ready for life at seven on the morning? And what will I do with my darkness, screaming how I owe to it, for standing with me on the hard times? And if owing to light scared me off to darkness, can the same welcoming darkness hold me as a hostage?

I don't need those leashes tying me to the dark. I'm bruised all over from the chains that are dragging me to the light.

Oh, there's a certain fragility

It's interlaced with our fingertips

It's lingering

Every time I touch your skin

The forbidden

The forgotten

The ignored

All dance together around us

As I'm masking my words

Hiding away a love so unique

So precious, so ours

I can't, though I want,

I can't share it with the world

And it's still unmistakably there

In the sparkles on my eyes,

In the fluttering in my chest,

On the parts of the stories I can't tell

It lives under overexposed duvets

In rooms resembling outer worlds

I mumble my love on the silences

It echoes on unexplained smiles

My eyes scream it endlessly

And couldn't stop if I tried

But what's ours is ours

The skin on skin

The collision of teeth

All of it, for us

A past dusted in lust

Us.

We.

I don't take up much space

I am crouching

I've been tiptoeing

On the given pace

Oh no, I'm staining the walls

Please excuse the bleeding

I'll clean everything

Every spot from the ceiling

I'm sorry for screaming

I know it's forbidden

Just stab me slower

I'll keep my emotions hidden

I'll enjoy your loudness

Every shout shrinks my soul

I'll soon reach my peak

As a robotic doll

I'm sure I did all you say

I've been hopeful

I recklessly smiled

I enjoyed the day

I shall be quiet now

This knife on my chest

Makes it hard to follow you

And we're nearing some stairs

No more thoughts

Just silent obedience

Closed eyes and thick darkness

Oh newly students

Look at ye

Fresh bunch of blood

For the facility to drink

I admire your naivety

And that little glow

Still on your skin

A sign of pride

Cause you made it indeed

My crashed dreams

They scream at me

Not to disturb

Your ignorant glee

I guess I should allow the daydream

Let you enter this war

With smile and positivity

So welcome

In this place that's filled

With sweat and tears

And love and guilt

Nothing stays the same

But join the ride

For you'll maybe find

"We're tiny! Don't you see it? We're tiny!" she yelled at him, her voice dripping a panic so urgent and overwhelming, not even his warm embrace could calm.

"We were born here, on a day and age we never chose, by people we have not the luxury to pick, under circumstances we will never be able to control. And that's how we leave as well. An unknown how and when await us at the end of our existence. And then, we become just numbers and statistics, on catalogues no one really reads. Or we remain as faded inaccuracies​ in the memories of the people that overlive us. That's if we're lucky. If we were able to find people that actually cared enough. All of our existence is a sequence of events so unimportant, so dull, so insignificant...

How are you not afraid? How are all of those facts not overwhelming and scary to you? Every day that passes by, we walk towards our inevitable disappearance, which will also soon mean nothing. We're such a waste of power. And even so, not a really significant one, that could possibly disturb the balance of the endless universe. Everything will soon continue to exist, totally indifferent to our musings."

Tears filled her eyes as soon as she stopped talking. They were both laying still, fingers interlaced, gazing at the endless night sky expanding above them. To say this wasn't what he had in mind when he asked her to go stargazing with him, would be an understatement. He was prepared for a romantic night on his rooftop, filled with laughter and love and hours of talking about future plans or sweet nothings. Now that he came to think about it, he should have at least expect things to not go according to plan. This was a running theme on his life, at least ever since he met her. She has always been full of surprises. But watching her now, at a state of pure existential panic was a whole new level of unpredictable. He tried his best to comfort her.

"Hey! Everything is fine. I'm here for you. Please, stop crying..."

He softly enveloped her in his arms, and she showed no resistance. She didn't stop crying either. He was caressing her upper arms and she was wetting his shirt. Nothing seemed to be able to drag her out of this loophole she was caught in. It was for the best to just let her be for a while, to let everything out. The spiral of thoughts was far too complicated to navigate while shaking and sobbing. He could only tighten his embrace and place a few chaste kisses on her forehead. She needed some time, he'd be there for her as soon as she was ready.

Waiting for her to calm down, he started replaying at his head everything she had say. Her arguments were valid and her questions, however urgent, were, admittedly, unanswerable. Preparing what to say back wasn't a search of answers, it was more like forming a counterpoint based on the same cold facts. Time was passing by unnoticed, and at some point she started calming down a bit. As she finally stopped crying, he broke the embrace hesitantly and searched for her eyes.

Her face was red and her eyes swollen. He wiped away her tears and smiled gently at her. Maybe now it was time to break the silence. He cleaned his throat, took a deep breath and started.

"First of all, my question was whether you believe in aliens or not." she smiled a bit at that, which gave him the courage he needed to continue.

"Secondly, I'd like to add that you look lovely even when you cry. Also I'm a bit underwhelmed, I've seen you cry more than that over the death of a fictional character, you could have done better."

That earned him an eye roll and a bat on the forearm, but it was worth it, for that glimpse of a smile on her face.

"Ok. To the main point now. I wish I had the answers to all of your whys and hows. I wish I could persuade you there is reason, or there is a higher purpose that's tying us all together. That, however, would be foolish, and also a lie, as I don't believe in those things either."

A sigh escaped her lips, and he reached down to hold her hand.

"Yes. Our whole life isn't but a series of events, most of which we're unable to control. Yes, the very ends and beginnings of our time in this tiny planet are still inexplicable, and yes, the difference we can make is rarely enough to change anything. I agree with you. There's almost no way to maintain your sanity once you've realized how small you are compared to the cosmos. It's scary to view yourself in proportion to the unknown and unexplored."

"Then how?" she interrupted him "How and why are you not afraid by these things?" Her wondering eyes were piercing his, as she demanded an answer.

"I admit that I'm scared too. It really upsets me once I really think about it. Having thought about it, I ended up on the conclusion that it's wiser to think about the atoms, rather than the black holes."

At this point she was totally confused, and so he proceeded to explaining.

"You see, there'll never be anything I can do to change the passage of time and its consequences. And I've came to accept that. Much like a black hole, time has a power of its own that we don't fully understand or are able to control or defeat. This moment though, here, with you, or everything else that I choose to do, on that list of insignificant human musings, it's more similar to an atom. I can study it better, understand it better, I have power on it. I have the power to control the colours and the sentiments on the pictures filled under my name, on your memories."

She was listening cautiously, as he further explained his theory on how we need to focus on the things we can affect rather than those we have no power upon. Her panic was subsiding and she began to understand. A sly smile was fighting on her lips.

"Thank you for this. For putting up with my existential fear and my overreaction. It means so much to me, having you hold me while I cry." she said, squeezing his hand.

Her eyes were now lovingly grazing his face, the distance between them becoming less by the minute. They shared a slow, tender kiss.

"Well..." he was the one to break the silence as soon as their lips parted "I was planning on telling you this tonight anyway... And although I should admit I came up with a different scenario in my head, the sentiment still stands."

"I guess never sticking to the original plan is what you get for having me around" she humored, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"I'll gladly take it" he admitted and they shared a smile.

"I love you." he added, his voice somehow steady even with his heart pounding on his chest. "I love you and I'm thankful that we get to star in each other's memories. I couldn't have wished for a better version of you, even if I wrote your character myself." He finished off his sentences exhaling, as if there wasn't enough air in his lungs. Her response came in the form of a kiss, this time though it felt different. It was deeper and more passionate and they both got lost in it, completely melding together.

When they separated to catch their breath he searched for her eyes once more.

"So?" he asked, face begging for an answer. It was more that he wanted to hear her saying it than not actually knowing the answer, but he was scared still

"Yes. Yes, I do believe in aliens." she answered, her eyes mischievous while trying to maintain her composure.

"You're impossible." he all but yelled at her, rolling his eyes pointedly, crossing his arms and facing away. She fell on a fit of laughter, but hugged him still.

"I love you too. So so much." she whispered on his ear.