I still remember his roaring. He growled like an animal and then dropped the shoe laces he was holding. There was a sudden jerk and then nothing.
It smelled of alcohol and piss, that doorstep he was calling home. Maybe it wasn't even his home, just a shelter for the night, a pass time in the other dimension. Greasy hair, untidy, long. A stubble, couple of wrinkles, a weird hat. No name, just a description. A forgotten coat from times long past, hole shoes that had roamed over the unwelcoming side of Athens, that of more sadness, some could say weakness or misery. That of more loneliness.
His eyes were fixed in the corner, I always wondered if it was the 3 policemen few steps away he had spotted. Dry tongue, heavy breathing, an empty injection.
Bam. Sirens. Someone had called an ambulance. People moving, people being (re)moved. The policemen might have noticed something. Slight uproar. I need water. The shoe laces stood there alone, their owner missing. It took me some time to realise. He was dead.
It was the first time I saw a person dying in front of me. It was so calm, life seemed like a fairy passing by, lingering around for a second and then cointinuing to her unknown final destination. But at the same time, so violent. The fairy was self-conflicted. And I was just standing there. Don't go. Please don't go, please not infront of me...
What is life? I don't know. I'm just standing now on my bed, looking at the ceiling after a crappy day of moving around and accomplishing nothing and crying. I just want to let go the pressure.
What is life? My friend told me she had tried to commit suicide when she was in high school, I was appalled. It can't be, she's trolling me. Then what are these cuts? The green tea evening ended up as a huge discussion. It's not your fault, I said. It's not your fault, don't let go. She smiled and told me to copy the lectures schedule.
That was two days ago.
Rain. Leaves like carcasses. A nightline training email. A sign near loveshack "don't do drugs". "The big issue", an old man playing the flute, an out of tune voice singing for money. Macklemore's 'otherside' on my iphone.
Please don't go. Feels like I sometimes reiterate this phrase as a reminder to myself, don't let go.
Everything is going to be ok. I don't want any more suffering, I wish I could just walk around the world hugging people. Someone told me that hugs are the best medicine-because one size fits all. I think, when I hug someone I can feel their pulse, their energy. You see sometimes a tap in the head, a silent stroll, a night under the stars can be so helpful.
I still don't know what's life. But this roar, the living corpses, the despair, don't give up. And to myself, don't let go either. Tomorrow is a new day.
P.S.1. "Nothing is permanent in this wicked world, not even our troubles."
Υ.Γ.2. Θα ήθελα να γράψω κάτι πιο ευχάριστο μετά από τόσο καιρό αλλά πραγματικά ένιωσα περισσότερο σα να κρατάω ημερολόγιο μετά από μια δύσκολη βδομάδα :/
It smelled of alcohol and piss, that doorstep he was calling home. Maybe it wasn't even his home, just a shelter for the night, a pass time in the other dimension. Greasy hair, untidy, long. A stubble, couple of wrinkles, a weird hat. No name, just a description. A forgotten coat from times long past, hole shoes that had roamed over the unwelcoming side of Athens, that of more sadness, some could say weakness or misery. That of more loneliness.
His eyes were fixed in the corner, I always wondered if it was the 3 policemen few steps away he had spotted. Dry tongue, heavy breathing, an empty injection.
Bam. Sirens. Someone had called an ambulance. People moving, people being (re)moved. The policemen might have noticed something. Slight uproar. I need water. The shoe laces stood there alone, their owner missing. It took me some time to realise. He was dead.
It was the first time I saw a person dying in front of me. It was so calm, life seemed like a fairy passing by, lingering around for a second and then cointinuing to her unknown final destination. But at the same time, so violent. The fairy was self-conflicted. And I was just standing there. Don't go. Please don't go, please not infront of me...
What is life? I don't know. I'm just standing now on my bed, looking at the ceiling after a crappy day of moving around and accomplishing nothing and crying. I just want to let go the pressure.
What is life? My friend told me she had tried to commit suicide when she was in high school, I was appalled. It can't be, she's trolling me. Then what are these cuts? The green tea evening ended up as a huge discussion. It's not your fault, I said. It's not your fault, don't let go. She smiled and told me to copy the lectures schedule.
That was two days ago.
Rain. Leaves like carcasses. A nightline training email. A sign near loveshack "don't do drugs". "The big issue", an old man playing the flute, an out of tune voice singing for money. Macklemore's 'otherside' on my iphone.
Please don't go. Feels like I sometimes reiterate this phrase as a reminder to myself, don't let go.
Everything is going to be ok. I don't want any more suffering, I wish I could just walk around the world hugging people. Someone told me that hugs are the best medicine-because one size fits all. I think, when I hug someone I can feel their pulse, their energy. You see sometimes a tap in the head, a silent stroll, a night under the stars can be so helpful.
I still don't know what's life. But this roar, the living corpses, the despair, don't give up. And to myself, don't let go either. Tomorrow is a new day.
P.S.1. "Nothing is permanent in this wicked world, not even our troubles."
Υ.Γ.2. Θα ήθελα να γράψω κάτι πιο ευχάριστο μετά από τόσο καιρό αλλά πραγματικά ένιωσα περισσότερο σα να κρατάω ημερολόγιο μετά από μια δύσκολη βδομάδα :/
by Nausika
