A gloomy afternoon

The fragrance and the vapors of the tea are long gone. The cup is marked with red lips like a birthmark. The books are scattered on a small coffee table Together with some white and scribbled folded paper.

The wet and cold air flows through the wide opened door To soothe the room that was scorching two days ago. The wet soil fragrance puts the lazy dog to sleep And it drifts off my fidgety soul.

The birds are singing outside, far away from my door, A lullaby to the sky And to the curious cat that lays listening to their song.

My eyes are closed. I see a pink light. And I imagine that the birds are sending a message through their lullaby. That life is not only motion but also enjoyment of a silent time.

It's peaceful and addictive. The air likes to play between my fingers. The time flows slowly in this tiny room Where a girl, a dog, a cup, some books and folded papers are resting on a gloomy afternoon.

Memories

Sitting in a chair with my head bursting of pain
I think about you.
It’s been so long since you came into my mind.

I remember like it was yesterday
In those times when the future was just a child’s play.
You taught me one lesson 
How to live not just messin’.

I’m sitting here listening to your song
You always loved to play and made me sink in thoughts.
But everything is gone,
There’s no hatred, not even lust.

I buried you so long time ago.
I buried the memories we used to share.
Even the goodbye message on that broken old phone.

But do you know how much you hurt me?
Do you know how much you played with me?
Probably not, because I said yes when we broke up.

I still remember your brown child-like eyes and the tone of your voice.
I can’t forget even if I want.
You were my first love and my last.
Because I’ll never leave someone to play with my heart.

I’m sitting here on my desk
Trying to make sense of a bunch of verbs.
My head is bursting with pain but I forget
Because I still remember what you once said
You only live for now, forget the rest.

I see

I see the time as a tree

With many branches and leaves

That holds the story of a ME

Who exists, should be or gone already.

I see the past as a leave

That tried its best but,

It’s time to flee into the air

And to just disappear.

I see the future as a blooming flower

Opening its petals as the opportunities transpire.

Each thought, each action, each word

Makes the flower to blow with color.

And when the time is right a fruit will devour

The place where used to be just a drop of color.

Just thinking

“I see these frightening expanses of the universe that shut me in, and I find myself stuck in one corner of this vast emptiness, without knowing why I am placed here rather than elsewhere, or why from out of the whole eternity that has gone before me and the whole eternity that will follow, this one tiny period has been given me in which to live out my life. I see only infinities on every side which shut me in like an atom, like a shadow that lasts only an instant, with no possibility of return. All I know is that I must soon die, but my ignorance is darkest concerning this very death that I cannot avoid.”( Blaise Pascal, Pensées,1660)

Why now? Why was I born now, in this era? I always wanted to know the answer. Why do I feel so distant to this post-modern culture? Why I feel so different from other people? Why do I always think in a different manner than the rest of people? Why do I feel like I can let my spirit wonder and in the same time my body can move like a container, without life, doing the worldly and repetitive things?

This is my world. It’s full of questions I don’t have response. I find myself feeling like a stranger in this world of consumerism and selfishness. I don’t feel good. I feel trapped like a bird in cage and I want to break free. But where should I go?

It’s a strange world I cannot understand. I cannot understand how it works. Always the selfish person wins; always the stupid person is the best. Am I the only one who feels this way? I often ask myself. Probably not. Probably I’m not the only one who feels like this place is not the home she or he is looking for. I don’t want a perfect world but I want one that treats people like they deserve.

These days I really hate to go out. I’m trapped in the world of books. Sadly, it’s a world of fantasy and lies. But it’s alright, because I know the truth. The real one is different. People like to lie and deceive, but they do it with a smile on their face. I don’t know what they’re thinking. And when I realize it, it’s too late. I’m the one left behind with a broken heart, because I believed in them.

 When I walk on the streets I see only sad people. They are so sad that they want to find company in alcohol and women/men to feel that warmth they are looking for. Why are they doing that? Tomorrow, when the spell is broken, they are going back to their invisible cage, called life. Then, they will do the same thing the next day. Why don’t they try to break free? I see it but I don’t understand it. Maybe, because I’m not mature enough, because I’m still trapped in my idyllic world of words and dreams.

I don’t feel good here. This is not my place. I feel these sentences deep inside me. I’ve tried to mingle, but it’s getting tiring. It’s like trying to put a comedy show so you can entertain others. This is what I do. But in my mind and soul, there is another feeling. I don’t like it here. It’s strange and cold. I don’t want to become a container, without a soul, without her own thinking.

When I stop putting the mask of happiness and I show my real me, people are puzzled. Why do you think this way? they ask me. Why don’t you do like others do? Why don’t you follow the natural order of life?  The answer is: I cannot do it. Something is stopping me. Like a sixth sense. I always had it. This sensation that you’re special, do not go on the same path your parents, grandparents, friends took it and are taking it. Because you’re different. Since I was a child, I felt different from my classmates, from my parents, like I’m not from here. And, I left that place, called home, for another one hoping to find the answers. The new one is giving me the same vibration. It’s not your home, it’s not what are you looking for.

But, again, what I’m looking for? I don’t know. The only thing is that I feel different from the rest.

I don’t hate this world. I never did. It gave me wonderful memories, wonderful friends, wonderful family. But I cannot feel it. It’s a strange place to me. I don’t feel it deep inside me. Maybe I should stop looking and just build my own world, where I can live.

This place, called Earth is a strange place.