I crave intimacy but I don't want temporary people to touch my mind, body or soul. People are created to be loved and things are created to be used. The reason the world is in chaos is because things are loved and people are used, and everything makes sense from their perspective, to me. Lust is not enough and love exhausts me. I cry. Sometimes I feel like I can't get anyone in my life to meet me. I want to share my intensity with others and connect with each other in some poetic and distorted landscape, and that's just something that's hard for me. Wasting My potential, I'm just the kind of mystery that I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life trying to explore, but I feel almost unnaturally strange, that I'll ever get used to surviving. a mystery. I'm always amazed when I find I've survived. They always ask me about love. Love, I said true love, it's like you don't feel fear when you stand in the face of danger, because you just want so badly to touch it, of your true love, that's all you did, she's like heaven in that moment taking the place of something evil and letting it drown from the rush yes my dear. I crumble into pieces when I'm with you (damn) you destroyed me.
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The sound of a phone ringing. It had been ringing since the morning, and I heard my mother’s voice on the other side of the phone. I put it on the table and went to make me some tea and focus on her words.
"I hope your trip was good. You know that I am afraid for you, right?... The U.S. is different from the U.K. Remember that... My dear, I know that what happened is very difficult for you... but I wish you the best” I closed my eyes. remembering the incident, "It's nothing, mom. It's just destiny... God wanted me to be here. And i think it's better for me though."
My immediate goal is to put before the world, clearly, authoritatively, and without comment on their consequences. These events terrified me, tortured me, and destroyed me. However, I will not try to expose them. For me, they provided little horror. For many, they will seem less horrific than the rape. Perhaps some intelligence will be found that will turn my imagination into the ordinary.
"I know that it's just terrifying when someone dies in the apartment across from you. The press says that the victim's body was found in the lake."
"This is really terrible" .
"Maybe you are right to travel after all, I don't think I'll feel safe there after this incident."
I may not expect it, nor ask to believe it. I would be truly mad when I expected it, in a state in which my senses rejected the evidence for it. And yet I am not mad, and certainly I do not know, but I was going to die then tomorrow, and today I am here freeing my soul.
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I opened my eyes tiredly, looking at the ceiling, noise everywhere. I looked around, Nick was not there. I arranged my seat. I remember the dream clearly. It was my conversation with my mother a year ago on the first day I came to the US. I got up from my office and went towards the company cafe. I started to drink my coffee in peace....the medications affected me negatively. Maybe that doctor was really stupid. I sleep at random.
"Insomnia is really affecting you, why don't you take a short vacation?" The sound of Nick echoes in my mind, I looked at him calmly.
"I went to the doctor, he gave me some medicine, but I didn't sleep last night and I'm feeling a little dizzy I took a short nap just now."
"It's funny to see you dozing off at work".he said.... I smiled.
"This is not funny, it affects my performance at work".
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I am now at home It's about two o'clock after midnight, and I'm not sleepy. I took a rest from the company manager. He's a really nice person. I try to sleep, but to no avail. My steps take to the hall. Since I lived in this apartment, I've never known a day when I opened the parallel window in the building opposite. I had grown accustomed to its depressing confinement, the dust covering its wooden sides, and the gloom of its appearance in my soul. I sat quietly on the sofa, reliving the events of my day over the ruins of jazz music, with a cup of wine. I looked at the window, extending her arms to the space around her, like a heart coming back to life. Her insides stirred with the movement. She was close. To the point that allowed me to hunt those inside her, my character was not tinged with curiosity, but rather with a thirst for conversation. Periods of silence passed over me, trying to comprehend. I must be hallucinating, until I was swimming with my imagination, driven by the passion of encounters. I imagined a stranger with no specific identity, only eyes and ears. And he listened to what I might say, even though I did not know what I was saying. Perhaps the stranger was reserved and did not withdraw from conversations easily. I did not focus on how strange the situation was to see someone moving to a new apartment at this time. I turned off the music and went to my room. I tried to sleep, but I could not, as usual.
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I didn't know how much time had passed, but I could see some light in the sky. I went outside and went to a small store. I bought some cigarettes and started smoking in the Building garden and I looked at the neighbor's apartment, but it was dark. Maybe he was asleep now. I started walking around the city. How I wished to live asleep at that time or to be dead. When I die, I discover that I did not live. Death must be very beautiful, to lie on the soft brown ground with the grass looming above your head, and to enjoy the silence, to have neither yesterday nor tomorrow. Forget the time to forgive life, to be at peace. I threw the cigarettes on the floor. Look at my pale hands. I'm tired, so tired. I sighed heavily and went back to my apartment. I lay on my bed and drank my medication, hoping to sleep this time. I closed my eyes.
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I heard a sound coming from the hall. My vision was blurry. I went toward the sound and the music box was playing. I was not bothered by it, so I left it. I went to the window and met my eyes toward the neighbor’s apartment. The architecture of the place was identical to my apartment. The motionless bodies from the foundation of the structure in the other apartment were the same. My guesses were long. Until the heroine of the stranger was interrupted, she was a young woman of a close age, a little younger than me. Perhaps it seemed to me that, seeing me, she had approached astonishment, as if my stare were a philosophical question, holding a warm cup in her hands, the vapors of which rose towards her face, which became more familiar with the passing of the seconds. I was happy to see her, but I could not able to identify any additional information.she smiled at my prolonged and revealing contemplation of her window and quietly closed the window. I continued to listen to whatever music I could have and had fun reliving my days like an old videotape, practicing possibilities on it, but soon I was overcome by confusion and curiosity about the neighbor. Please come and help me tonight. My heart is heavy, my feelings are blue, and my soul is sad. I don’t know what to do... I felt warm from your smile.
