I look at a blank canvas and I see no blankness, only unpainted art.
I look at a blank paper and I see unspoken words, waiting to be written down.
“And I have known the eyes already, known them all— The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? And how should I presume?”- T.S. Eliot
This is about a guy that put my world in a blender and pressed the button.
This cocktail has no significant taste. This cocktail tastes like confusion.
It all began when we met, the encounter that changed it all. It wasn’t like in the movies. My heart didn’t race and my legs didn’t get all shaky. I wasn’t nervous, just the opposite. I felt great relief. It felt like after years of wandering this world like an outcast, I had finally found my haven. I found home. I found heaven.
When our lips met for the first time, I felt myself shiver; but my body did not move a muscle. Our energies crashed like ocean tides. It sent a jolt of electricity down to my core, and I felt my entire essence shake in response. My mind stopped. Time stopped. It felt as though someone paused the movie I was living, but the disk was still silently spinning. I had to press the red stop button. I had to make him stop, because I knew that if I so much as allowed myself to engrave that feeling upon my memory, I would have to spend the rest of my life feeling homeless. And we all know those frequencies cannot be held back once unleashed. An earthquake cannot be zaped back to the crack it climbed up from. In my heart, I knew it was best to continue wandering with the hope of finding a home, than to know what it’s like to have had a home and lost it.
After an experience like that, we just spend our entire life subconsciously trying to recreate that perfect moment, to relive it even for a second. But little do we know, this world was not meant for perfection, because what we shared was a mere glitch it the system; and glitches aren’t meant to happen.
In my mind, I dismantle you. Like a mad scientist, taking apart and examining every particle, every atom and molecule in fascination, getting closer and closer to understanding you with each finding. And in the end, only after I’ve finished completely taking apart your structure can I have enough understanding to be able to re-construct you, like a kid playing with lego blocks.
But you? All you ever did in that beautifully crafted head of yours was undress me. You imagined how my bare skin would feel pressed against yours, while I envisaged the energy that crawls under your surface. All you cared about was the brief merging of bodies, not the eternal fusion of souls.
I’m hurt, but I’m no longer the lost wanderer. I take refuge in my words now. A bit of me resides in every word that I write.