“I’m losing it.”
I sounded like a person who has lost his voice. Words barely came out of my mouth. But those were 3 honest words I told him.
He was the only one in the entire world who was going to hear that from me. That kind of shit doesn’t usually come out of me. But that day was a different day.
“With that much information at my disposal, you’re losing me too.”
He had this creativity to somehow crack me up even in the darkest of times. That’s why we have been always together. I still remember the day we were going through the same phase.
“We’re so fucking fucked.”
“Yes, we are so fucking fucked. But we’ve been fucked before. In the ass. Legs been behind our rears. Not a drop of lube. But we’ve always come out smiling. You know why? Because it’s just the kind of happy-go-lucky sluts we are, my man.”
Somehow, we always go through the same phase. Always.
“Let’s get out of here first. I need some air to stay alive.”
I put on my shorts that were hiding in my closet for a long time. It felt liberating. There was this urge to burst everything out with such a force that everyone gets a piece of it. We started walking along the humid wave of heat. Those shorts were barely helpful. It wasn’t that liberating after all.
“I’m done with this shit.” I started my little sad story which wasn’t usual for the Disney land. “I’m exhausted. Every single day of the week. Sometimes I feel like I’m going to get sucked so hard into this thing that one day, it will shit me out of its asshole, and it’ll be too late to realize.”
He knew that wasn’t all. He knew me too well.
“And I’ve been getting into a lot of random stuff that I never wanted to. I know I don’t want to but I can’t help it. It just sucks me in.”
I noticed the sky changing its color as we walked across the lake. Everything seemed to be getting darker. I wasn’t the only one feeling that way.
“Nature’s with me tonight.” I thought.
“Yeah. Everything is as depressing as you tonight. Let’s see the root of the trouble. Who do you think it is?”
I felt him making sense there. I decided to be honest.
“I think it’s me who’s causing all this mess. I think I should focus on doing what I really want to do.”
“What you really want to do seems out of your reach, doesn’t it?”
He was right. I saw the red and green lights flickering at me through a shop sign. Everything felt far away.
“I guess that’s the big picture right there. What I want is not in my hands. I can take care of most of my desire list, but I can never go the whole way by myself. Because the person that I want to have everything to do with, wants nothing to do with me.”
He knew all about that. He’s been the witness since that very first moment and was still on the same never ending journey with me.
“Tell me one thing. Promise you’ll be honest.”
I stared him right into his eyes. “Have I ever lied to you?”
He looked away from me. The eye contact was too brutal and truthful for him. And his words had the same effect on me.
“The woman you love is out there and you know you can’t have her. How do you even get up in the morning?”
I wasn’t expecting this kind of cruelty on me. He made me go deep into my thoughts. I kept wondering. What was it? Was it the only thing to care about? My fingers worked their way up the free enterprise mechanism. Some digits flashed in front of my eyes, but they were too busy dreaming to notice them.
“Well being busy is always helpful and so is the art. Everything I write is either for her or about her. So I’m with her, even when I’m not.”
He didn’t say anything for sometime. Maybe he found what he was looking for. We kept walking across the picturesque landscape which now had a pinch of sadness to it. Dark and sad. Everything seemed to be thrust upon me.
“You can do it.”
I knew I could. But I just let it go. It wasn’t my decision. Something else was controlling my threads. Finally, it felt liberating. The mind was free. Everything was out where it belonged. No more bullshit.
“So what are you going to do about it?”
And I thought he was done asking questions.
“I don’t know. I’m not going to church and pray for sure.”
“Anyone can be cynical. Dare to be an optimist.” He was making sense with those words.
“Maybe I’ll just do what I always do.”
“And what is that?”
“I’m a writer. I believe in sitting down, closing my eyes, and hoping for the best.”
“Well that sounds like a pretty good definition of prayer to me.” Somebody was impressed.
“Do you think that’ll work?” I was still unsure.
“Just ask yourself when was the last time you did that and what happened. I know it didn’t work most of the times, but that one time was worth it.”
He was right. He’s usually right.
“You’re welcome.” He winked at me and disappeared into the now-not-so-dark landscape of the mother nature.
Sometimes, you are the only person who can give you the best advice.
I was back into a single piece again.