So I wrote this short narrative the other day, and I thought it could be a decent thing to share, instead of swearing for 9 paragraphs (watch me spill my guts and go ape shit in the article below).
The narrative captures a relatively short moment I wish I could've saved. I wish I could've filmed it or taken a picture. But instead of a slurred motion picture or a neat snapshot, all I am left with is regret.
It's a moment that felt familiar at first. I feel I have already experienced it, but only now can I feel its looming presence over my shoulder.
What is below could spark the beginning of a novel or something. But then again, all I wanted was to capture and imprison that unique moment of extreme solitude concealed through layers of cold-heartedness.
All I want is to take revenge on that moment that imprisoned me that evening.
That moment is imprisoned in the serene flow of words that follows below:
--
I sat outside that night. The breeze was bitter, but the air was soothingly cool. It was a wonderful evening. A hint of fertility amidst the dry, blazing summer days that made up the asphyxiating month of august. I stared at the fiery flames settled into the welcoming womb of the sun setting in the sky. Those flames were there every night, tainting that otherwise pristine skyline. Always there. In that spot.
Unmovable.
I sat in an unnerving position that was twisted but still comfortable. My phone (only substantial connection to the world) was lying to my right. My hand curled around a beer to my left.
The wind got stronger and the subliminal noises were amplified. It made me feel small. The chairs rocked harder, the bells jingled louder, the water rippled stronger.
I took a sip of my beverage, savouring every tasty drop of that Heineken labelled wonder of liquid bliss. For the first time, I was enjoying this.
With all the insane days and nights I had experienced, on holiday and at home, I had never taken the time to stop and wonder at some of the fine subtelties this devious world has to offer.
Music was playing at half volume on my phone. To reinforce the already seductive soundtrack of the moment, Elliott Smith's "Needle in the Hay" followed by Oasis's "Gas Panic" were summoned. They are two of the most dazzling songs ever written.
With all these components present, I felt a glimmer of déja vu as the last rays of the sun penetrated the clouds, turning them a glossy pink and purple. I felt like Tom Cruise in "Vanilla Sky".
This moment didn't feel real. All of a sudden I lost myself, and found myself in the limbo-like feeling of not knowing whether you're awake or dreaming.
Then I hit the floor and realised. It's fucking over.
My period of immortality. Our period of immortality. Tomorrow we will be reluctantly dragged back. But, in the great words of the Beatles and Oasis: "Tomorrow never knows what it doesn't know too soon".
The sun was shining it's final rays, dissolving the great abyss of daylight. Leaving an almighty chasm of doubt for me to gaze into.
I have run across summer. I've never had this much fun in what is usually a pretty slow time. Only now do I realise that 2 months have passed and I am not the same.
I took a sip of my beer. My phone died and so the seductive soundtrack was obliterated by an aching silence. I was now out in the open.
My bottom lip curled furtively around my teeth. A playful movement some might say, as I was trying not to lose track. But sometimes to understand you have to lose track.
I think that that's what happened. I lost track. And here I stumble onto this stepping stone that is oh so far away from each riverbank.
I had lost myself. I'd started to confuse my emotions. I didn't really know who I was.
It's as if I was looking at myself through someone else's eyes. What I saw was surprising.
I thought I had complete control. That by documenting all of this on my blog I would be in control of everything I feel and have.
I was infinitely wrong. I really can't keep track. I think that the inexorable stream of life will take me somewhere where I can keep track again. Now that I'm young and admittedly stupid, I have to let go and appreciate everything this icewarm world has in stall.
--
I don't know where that narrative came out from.
The fucking thing wrote itself. But all of it is hauntingly true. I'm losing control of what I thought I could master.
I have spent all this time chasing the sun. Now it's time to stop.
It's not so bad though, because now it's time to slide away.
Tomorrow won't know.
Tomorrow never knows.
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