The Reason to Bigotry

Ever felt like you lived two different lives? It feels as though you are cheating on one life with the other. Not that really have two different lives, or girlfriends for that matter (lucky me if I had one). It’s really about which life contains the most lies you tell, and which one contains the most truthful part of you. Enough of that open heart story. Try to be honest. What is the biggest lie you have ever told? If biggest lie it too complex for you – or maybe too strong – try what was the nicest thing I have ever done for someone? You see it too right? Maybe I lied in both occasions, but one looks a lot worse than the other.

Now truth is really overrated. It hurts; it leaves scars, but is still the simplest answer to all questions. Not that I prefer lies, but lies are inevitable. Can you live without breathing? Didn’t think so. Well, you can’t live without lying either. I know… sad but true. Some people live of lying, and those cannot discern between a cheap lie, and well arranged truth. What makes me go back to my double life. There’s the one in which I feel free to be whatever I want to be, and there’s the one I feel free to lie more – I mean – I feel free to be nicer to people. One life doesn’t know about the other. They shouldn’t… it would disrupt the balance.

I feel like a bigamist that has to make a choice. While I can’t decide which life I like better you can tell me about your life. So what will it be? Do you want me to lie and say that I care, or be nice and say that I don’t?

The Reason of Beauty

Have you thought about life today? Have you thought about beauty? There is so much beauty in the world, yet we condemn our lives to see so little of it. We forget to feel, to touch, to wonder… we seem to try to redeem ourselves by doing useless things, trying to find some kind of joy in pointless activities. Ask yourself, have I looked at the sun today? Have I emancipated someone of pain? Pain… yes pain. We do seem to feel that one a lot, so why not find the beauty of pain? It alarms you when something went amiss. Now how many would kill to have something that alarmed them all the time? Yet, we fear pain, as we fear too much sun, fear water, air, fire, love.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not better. I still take a pill or two when in pain, I still wear sunscreen when the sun is too hot, I’m careful with water, I don’t play with fire, and I’m scared of love – not of loving, but of not being loved. I’m a fool, a desperate being with nothing but words. How beautiful are words? What about sentences? Paragraphs, texts, chapters, books… They’re all there, all the time. But we – or most of us – don’t pay attention. We are too busy fearing, or maybe just complaining.

I looked at the moon today, but there was none. Am I too late to notice that beauty, or did I just ignore every other opportunity to do it? But I did think about life, and life itself is beautiful. Not only beautiful, but life is also perfect. As perfect as the girl I dream about. When I think of beauty, I think of what I have, and of what I wish, and of all the things that I had not wished before, but should have. I ask myself if I have seen enough. Truth be told no answer ever came to me, and sincerely, I don’t need one. No, let’s leave beauty to its mysteries, and life to its perfections. Let me just wonder, feel or touch anything life may think is necessary. What about you? Have you thought about beauty now?

The reason to Fall

At midnight I looked up and had the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. She was perfect; the last months with that girl had been the best of life. I realized that moment I had fallen in love. Love to me was pure, innocent. It was the idea of being a little kid again, to be naïve. I’d let be driven now, and would stop only when death had did us part. Yes, I had planned my life in a matter of minutes.

“What are you staring at?” She asked, moving those symmetric lips. I was lost in her, her beauty, her body.

“You,” I answered sincerely. “Have I told you’re beautiful?” It was cliché, but she was beautiful, and it had to be told.

“Not in the last hour,” she smiled. I never felt so alive before, never felt like I mattered so much, but that smile gave it to me. I wanted – no, I need her – more than anything in my life.

“You’re beautiful,” I replied then.

“Thank you,” she said. I couldn’t cope with it. She was the boss of my eyes, and had ordered them to not look away. They were her fans, and she was the idol.

Not looking at anything but her eyes, I asked. “Have you been in love before?”

“Yes, only once.”

“Have you ever been loved back?”

“No, never,” she looked at me, half nervous, half worried.

“How would you like to be loved?” I got on my knees, and waited. Any time now she would say yes –

“No, I – I can’t,” she turned around; her back to me. Her hair fallen on her shoulder.

“Why?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t love you in the same way.”

I heard my heart sink as I looked around and came back to earth. We were still on the rooftop, where minutes ago she looked at the stars, and I to at her.

“So, if this is not going anywhere, why did you give me any hope?”

“It was just so nice being with you. I’m sorry?”

Was it happening? Could it be happening? She came back to my sight, and it was then that I understood. It was not to be. I walked to the edge. There was a small wall on the border; I stepped onto it.

“I’d rather have one last breath remembering how pretty you were in the last time, than having millions more with nothing but a memory.”

She turned; I turned. My back was to nothing, I was on the edge of the building. “I’ve always felt like flying into the gray of your eyes.” I looked at them for the last time. “I love you,” I gave a step back, and flew. I’m still flying; flying into the nothingness of her eyes, but I never seen to arrive.

The reason of “no more”

He walked slowly to nowhere. Well, not exactly nowhere, but it felt like it. On he walked, lost in his mind. “What did I do wrong?” Not that something was wrong, but it felt like it. Something was always amiss with him; he could not make his mind up. Today though he was what you would call down. Nothing was different; or was it, and he hadn’t realized?

It felt like the end, or the beginning of it. It felt like “no more” was the right expression. But then again those were just feelings. He would go back to his apartment, and be the same old he; old me.

“Sir, can you help me?” I; he heard from somewhere. He turned, and saw the little girl just behind, a few steps from where he stand.

“Sorry?” he answered, still half-waked.

“Can you help me?” she said again in the same tone, with the same expression – if there was one at all.

“What can I help you with?”

“Can you answer me one question?” those eyes were penetrating, still something was off.

“Sure,” he answered.

“Have you found joy in your life?”

“What?”

“Joy. Have you found it?”

What was it? What was she talking about? Who was she? He asked hundreds of questions in his head, trying not to think about the one he was questioned.

“Girl, are you lost?”

“Not as lost as you seem to be. You in the other hand is so lost… why do you deny it to yourself? Why don’t you let your mind wander in my question? Do you know what joy is?”

What is joy? Sense of happiness, but he wasn’t happy. He knew it. He has content for now, but not happy.

“Yes, you have now thought about joy for the first time. Do me a favor, do yourself a favor. Go home and sleep; and let your mind fly away; let it go where you can’t. When you wake up, you’ll have your answer, you’ll know what joy means for you.”

“Who are you?”

“Me? Well, I’m your right expression, I’m “no more”,” and with that she walked away.

I did it, I went home and slept. He let his mind run away to meet new horizons, and when it came back it was different. Well not different, but it certainly felt like it.