Raheema: Let’s get festive

He told me to get dressed; “We are shopping for the festival.”

He did not ask me to….he told me to…

It seemed- then– that I liked being told to do; was –then– more favorable than being asked to.

It was 1981.

At any rate,

We drove in his old hateful stool green Opel.

He did not utter a single word during the whole trip.

Just a chauffeur- that was what he elected to be.

I wanted a father or a lover, and if that was too complicated, then a big brother, I wished for… [It seems] too much.

We came back –returned-, after being stuck in traffic for hours.

Do you know what ‘past-time’ I had then?

Watching festive people.

We, his holiness and I, then arrived…home.  Returned to the house called home.

I bathed, reclined, and tried to sleep.

That really felt fatherly and more like home than home.

I saw Breeze in my dream, for a change; he spoke.

Unusual of him to do so, talk, but he did; as a matter of fact, very [very] much extra-ordinarily, especially to me.

“I had a dream last night, a dream where big guns were pulled out; not pistons, not artillery, not war-planes, but feelings.

I stood by what I believed in.

I believed I deserved affection.

I felt I deserved to receive what I had always delivered.

But as usual, nothing was delivered.

The chocolate is melt; the heat of patience overwhelmed the freeze of beauty.

I melted, and found the nearest aluminum drain, and made life into its elements. I was left with the only thing that I was possibly could be left with: Mold.

I took few, actually less than few, decisions in my life; one was and would always be that I was just too weak to face the mundane-ity of truth.

I faced people with what I thought; and when they did not comply, I acted out in the exact same fatherly image, which, I had been complaining of.

I wanted to get rid of my manipulative behavior but I couldn’t, “I manipulated minds”, and made them think, or so I thought. I thought I could make them start to want, to believe, what I believed in, but, nevertheless it was manipulation.

I knew that, in spite of Demoozi’s distance, I could have made him do what he did last night, namely: Stay by my side and read his Gilgamesh thing again.

I knew that however hard he had tried to portray himself, and however distant he placed himself, he would do what I, he, believed would do last night; thinking that my life and my health were at stake. Of course they were not but come on …

It might have been at stake, myself being unaware [or aware] of that, but I intended to place him there. And I did.

Health, reputation, well being, creativity, self appreciation, I could very easily melt them like copper and place them into the glowing spoon holding liquid remorse.

Remorse is such an elastic expression.

He said; “One hour and I’ll call you”,

One would think that “one hour” is ‘short terms’ for the ending of a lifetime but it might be a lifetime for ending.

***

My ‘romantic self’ likes to extend ends into a saga, can’t help it. It’s me, take it or leave it.

I am proud to say, “NO”, no, let me re-appraise that: I hold astitute and constitution. That is in the delivery and the ‘making’.

You; not letting you, conceive the fact that: Your loss is not my problem, it should and [shall] not hold stop me from moving on.

She, at a ‘then’ point, called: “I thought that was unbelievable.”

Unbelievable! My back hurts.

Primarily, I was not allowed to love.

It was all over. It was aborted, so why call!?

Let me go, to peace, in peace, please.

I am known to be too selfish.

Be it.

Face it.

It is just disgusting, because I don’t feel I am, and yet I try to defend it.

All pack their bags and leave, of course, not forgetting the crescent of sour lemon in my saucer.

They excel in doing thus.

Selfish I am, and I am not going to defend that anymore. I am…and will let all else face it; face the real selfishness which they had not yet encountered, watch and see.

My smile is incapacitated, my laugh is amputated, my shoulders are bowed down, by knees are bent.

***

It is amazing how people can be so harsh using the softest elements in existence; words, gestures and what is called body language.

A tiger can tear you into shreds, 

Thunder can burn you into your constituting carbon atoms,

A snake can poison the living charge out of you, 

Your loved one can do all that, combined, and even swifter, by a word or a gesture. 

You can be pouring your heart out and he [she] looks sideways or checks the time.

You can be calling him[er] with great anticipation and [s]he just doesn’t answer, or worse yet, answers in a formal way to say[s]he’ll call later; may be tonight.

“May be tonight” 

Recklessly, swinging, your emotions. 

Its not a swing actually, because that needs a minimum amount of concentration; it is more like a blink; blinking away a dust particle bothering your eye, or a mosquito zapping next to your ear. Actions, which do not invoke any higher cortical mental function; thinking; it just uses a simple monosynaptic spinal reflex.

That is if your beloved has a spine.

Yes, only humans, particularly the one we love can turn your entire existence into a monosynaptic reflex. 

This is the tragedy of love.

Don’t get me wrong; love is not tragic, we are the ones who encase it with tragedy, when we allow all our layers and our history be linked to a single switch, and hand over the control of that switch to the one we love.

I thought I was beyond the “the ‘may’ be’s” and “the ‘could’ be’s”, but obviously not.

***

Could it have been that I became tired of being in charge, and became in search of someone to give charge to?

Could it be that I got too accustomed to being boring and bored?

Could it be that I discovered that my plans and lifestyle were too repetitive and too uncreative that I sought someone else’s idea of existence to jump-start me?

Could my search for rejuvenation had repetitively put be a-back?

Could it have been that my search for the characters, which I thought I lack, had overshadowed what I had? 

The result of which, as I did not expect, but unfortunately kept being proven true: “I did not acquire any thing I was not supposed to have, and lost what I had… in the process.”

There is no point in getting frustrated because as insistent as I may have tried in repeating the process with the same and with a different someone else, the result was and would always be the same

*** 

That is because it’s a fact, and facts ‘do not’ change. 

Facts continue to be facts; as in one plus one will always be two, whichever way we try and as often as we repeat the experiment; the result is the same. 

A fact is always a fact.”

***

The cursor kept blinking and the title repetitively said “A new document”.

I felt empty and portraying that emptiness into this new document.

That proved to be next to impossible, like climbing Everest.

Everest was climbed, my document was filled, and then I fell asleep.

***

Post script: This is the first time I use asterisks, I am moving between times.

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