#decication

Chapter Eight

— Why do you want to make this sacrifice? Just hold on lifetime, you gonna keeping alive to have fun, okay? Ya, see? You have possibilities, is not the end… we’re just 20, you are an upright person, ethical, the true is not in death but in life as you learn… the pain could not be so massive… no one goes through the hell two times, remember? Danny? Daniel? Hey? Remember what you said? Remember? You cannot… I… I don’t… really…

(She tries to relocate the unknown in words).

I’m silent.

I’m quiet because the only thing had rest to people like us, is the silent.

She starts to feel rejected and then, lonely, I refuse food, drug my spirit reading or drinking wine. Music. Dance.

I cannot sleep or walk like I usually...

I cannot breathe in the same way, I guess so, I can’t taste the smell of things, somehow, I really felt I can't do anything.

I just...

Paralyzed. Static.

Is different.

I don't know.

Maybe… ruined in some way.

Deteriorated?

I just...

Empty.

Numb.

White Screen.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Lana starting to cry, I incline my head touching the wall. I mumbled how fragile I founded right now, just feel so fragile when I’m walking in the street it’s like…

I am floating for no reason — the absence of feelings returned, should I be figurative the handsome Queen of me, I adore what I am but right now… it’s just… I hate all my fucking dreams and trues, the peace just will come toward when the rope’s petting my bones: I still learning here:

There’s nothing beyond the Pain because when you reach there, the Pain is there with you — I mean — your mind, bones, skin, breathe and veins, you are the Pain and no one can change it. You cannot run away from yourself.

I already tried. 

You cannot disconnect.

In my whole life playing back-and-forth with being alive or embrace death, joy or lonely, day or dawn, been punched in the face by life and two minutes ago been kissed by her, forward, I just — just — tired off about all this miserable damn bullshit called life.

I would like don't be it — a usual Nothing.

But I became something I have to lead with it. When you are a or the burden, when you died or reach a kind of a severe weakness inside like an ongoing seek, to anywhere you go you carry with you the fragrance’s graves you had visited, it’s following you, the people taste this pleasure, the presence and comfort of your fragile dead-dreams, deep and deep you still walking because it’s a process, always learning and everybody goes to sleep.

In the end.

Now you ask me:

And the gift? The abundance?

The present for being this way — Living The Yourself?

I do.

The present is:

Are 2 A.M. and everyone already sleeping, then you go to the kitchen get a glass of water, through the window: once again the moonlight touches your skin and it hurts so gently, in a low level of burning, then you hug yourself feeling solitaire and not so concern about feeling this way, so, you remember through this touch — it’s hurt, it's burning because the sky is talking to you — specific with you saying that I am not alone at all.

So I can sleep.

That’s it.

Two days ago when I get a glass of water I start to fall in a particularly sad and lonely moment, I received the Promise (you forget about it, if you grow up without being a true inner kid inside) in some way the sky, the awful green of this world, the cemetery, your songs, Lana, the cigarettes, all of these things still speaking with me:

— You are not alone.

It is terrible to hear. It is miserable.

The gloom gloomy of the clouds: it reaches you.

They remember you about it, who you truly are and next you have promises and pledges dwell in your backs — are not burdens — are blessings.

And you are not alone.