If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.

Σάββατο, 30 Αυγούστου 2014

Knock Knock Knocking On The Door

Your house. No, your home. It's a home. It's your refuge. Where you feel secluded and safe. Up up in the clouds, high up from the ground. It's not that you like to look down on others, no; you just wanna feel away from it all.

But I'm a fairy. I'm tiny and I fly and shit and somehow I manage to slip through the cracks. And there I am, in your home, in your refuge, looking out into the dark sky and the bright stars and the brighter city lights. God everything looks so tiny from up here. I could stare out this window for hours.

Which I do really, cigarette in hand, your cat purring around my legs while you're in the kitchen making us something yummy. At least that's what I presume from the smell.

Mmmmm, the view and the smells and the warm welcome of the cat just make me feel at home.

But I'm not, am I? I'm just a visitor. I'm on a look-but-do-not-touch basis.

I'll probably be gone before dawn.

We're not talking. We're so close but in completely different universes. It's quiet up here. Even the sound from the street below is far far away. Baffled even. We're too high up. But I like it. I prefer it this way. We're untouchable. That's why it feels safe.

You break the silence saying dinner is ready. I stumble to the kitchen bar, I had one too many glasses of wine, eh? I take my seat. We eat in silence. I'm toying around with my fork and food on my plate. We don't look at each other, but it's that comfortable silence that just makes sense to you and me.

Suddenly there's a knock on the door. So quiet, so faint. But I hear it. The cat hears it. Don't you hear it? Nope you don't seem to notice, you haven't even looked up from your plate. But there it is again, a faint knock knock on the front door.

You just keep eating.

Gradually the knocks get louder. Harder. I look at you; you're still staring into your plate, eating away as if you can't hear a damn thing.

"Don't you hear the knocking?"

My voice almost startles you; as if I woke you up from a trance. And suddenly you hear the knocking, which still grows in volume and intensity. Suddenly you look alarmed. As if you're threatened by it.

The knocking turns into pounding, God it almost feels like whoever is behind that door is gonna bring it down.

Pow. Pow. Pow.

You get up, you make a small circle around the kitchen, unsure what to do and then you just sit under the sink. I stare at you, the pounding growing on that door and you sit in a little ball, knees in hands, under the kitchen sink, staring in silence.

"Aren't you gonna get that?" I ask.

But you're just staring into silence. Even my voice can't get through to you; you're shutting down again.

I'm not sure why, but I get up. I want to smack you. Get you to your feet, grab your shoulders and shake you out of it. But that noise is growing. And I can't take it. So I march to the door, grab that knob and open it violently.

The door swings open and I'm face to face..

... with myself.

I look into my eyes, I barely recognize me.

My other self walks into the house, your home, sees you under the sink. God, not again. And goes to the window and lights a cigarette.

And it finally hits me; I was never really here, was I?

Τετάρτη, 27 Αυγούστου 2014

You Walked In A Bar

I've been sitting here for hours. Not too crowded, dim lights, just the way I like it. I've been nursing a drink for some time now. Playing around with the glass in my hand. Probably because I'm already a little tipsy and I don't feel like spending the rest of the night with my head down in the toilet.

Am I waiting? Or am I just too drunk to get up and leave?

Fuck. I don't know. With one abrupt gulp, I finish off that drink and order another.

I know I'm gonna be sorry in the morning.

But right now it's okay. It's not too crowded, the lights are low and noone is paying attention to me.

Then the door opens. And you walk in the bar. Is it raining outside? 'Cause your jacket is kinda wet. Your hair too but you don't even notice. Damn you look tired.

My drink arrives as you scan the room and set your eyes on me. That little smile of pleasant surprise and acknowledgement. It could also be the what-the-fuck look but I'm too tipsy to notice the difference. And as I'm thinking how did you end up in this dodgy bar on this idle evening, you walk over. Smile still there.

I light a cigarette. You order a drink. And we just sit there. Me smoking, you looking at me, smile gradually fading away.

Your drink comes, you take a sip, yeah, it's kinda strong and you never really had the hang of it. You look me in the eye. Yeah, you're tired but there's something else there. God you look tormented. I see trouble in your eyes.

I take another drag of my cigarette, I don't offer you one, I know you don't smoke, even though you could use one right now. You're drumming your fingers on the table, my silence is making you nervous, because you know how transparent you are to me, the way I fix my eyes on you, simply staring at you silently.

Stop. That. Drumming.

As if you could read my thoughts you do. You take a sip of your drink and just stare into the glass.

"What happened to you?" I finally ask.

You look up and stare at me.

"Are you even still in there?" I ask.

You open your mouth to say something, but you stop. Even you don't have the answers anymore.

It's alright, drink up, we'll figure this all out. One day.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

And we continue to drink in silence, just like the familiar strangers we have become.

Κυριακή, 24 Αυγούστου 2014

You can't kill them all

I have two bathroom doors okay? One faces the bedroom, the other one, the corridor. I love my two doored bathroom. Some people don't understand it and find it complicated.

I don't like those people.

Anyway, I'm peeing (sorry, too much info but you need to understand how vulnerable I felt) and the door facing the room is open (I live alone). And I see a fucking cockroach on my wall.

On. My. Wall.

As I'm peeing.

A few screams, tears and half a bottle of Aerosol spray later, that thing is lying on the floor, its legs up in the air and it hits me.

These things can survive a nuclear war. These things can do on without their head for days. Τι σκατά βάζουν μέσα στο Αεροξόλ και κόντεψα να πεθάνω μου λέτε?

Άλλο σκέφτηκα όμως.

What hit me was, there are some people that are just like cockroaches. They are disgusting, they creep up on you when you least expect it, they are usually in your business without being invited and it's almost impossible to be rid of them completely.

Some people can be so calculating and cold. And there you go, με το σταυρό στο χέρι, hoping, waiting for someone to recognize and most importantly, appreciate your value, your honesty and loyalty and reward it. But guess what; the society of 2014 we live in, is a fucking sewer. So guess who is at home and who can survive; cockroaches.

You can be the best, the noblest and most worthy of butterflies; honey, nobody is gonna notice because this is a sewer and no butterfly comes out of it alive.

Τρίτη, 19 Αυγούστου 2014

Maybe

Maybe τελικά.

Πέμπτη, 14 Αυγούστου 2014

Something's Gotta Give

Do you ever get scared?

The kind of scared that makes your blood run cold, wondering if and when you took that wrong turn in life? Or is it just being scared of what's around the corner?

Do you ever get that kind of scared?

Or is it just me? My insecurities and my vulnerabilities?

I get scared. I hate admitting it but sometimes, I'm scared shitless.

Sometimes I wonder whether I'm taking myself too seriously. Maybe I just need to fuck 'em all and loosen up. Other times I'm scared that I'm not good enough and it's only a matter of time before someone better comes along. And I'm left alone. And then comes that other feeling, that I wanna be the best of the best, and I feel so much pressure.

So yeah, sometimes I get scared.

I know it begins and ends with me. And when I'm feeling like this I keep telling myself "the race is long and in the end, it's only with yourself".

*deep breath*

*cocktail sip*

And the other thing... You and me..? Yeah.. that thing. I know I'll be over it 100% once I manage to forgive myself. I'm angry, but it's not you. It's me. I'm angry at myself. So yeah, I'll be over the bitterness and everything once I manage to cut myself some slack and forgive me. For hanging on. For losing myself in those eyes. For hoping that maybe you were the one. For believing it. For letting you in. Yeah, I'm working on it.

So yeah, sometimes I get scared.

But something's gotta give eh?