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alexix
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| you be the rhythm, ill be the beat
New York City is supposed to be magical during the holiday season. All of the movies agree to that point, and the crowds of overexcited tourists would swear a testimonial to the idea. The city is bundled with hope and wishes coming true and the revelation of the best in people.
I imagine a city emblazoned with crystal, and moments when the rest of the world fades away, leaving behind the translucence of the secrets of life. It makes ever little thing make sense, and every mistake we made in the past is given reason.
Your breathing resonates with the rhythm of your life. Your heart beats with the bass of your existence.
Our souls entwine. The dance makes the melody.
Like the first snow of winter settling upon the tip of your tongue, you melt my world away with every breath you take.
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| because once, you entered my soul...
I'd draw a picture of you in my mind so intricate in detail that, should you ever disappear from my life, I could close my eyes and recreate your existence.
I've devoured every moment you've given to me, hungrily, knowing life would not always be so kind. We wither away so quickly now, savoring the memories of times of plenty.
Her heart grew tumultuous with the oceans of desire. He was drawing her away from the safety of solid ground, and she was drowning.
You invade my dreams as I struggle against heavy eyelids, knowing that once asleep, I would never dare wake and lose you again. How do we battle our own desires?
He set her world on fire, but she never imagined that when he left, only ashes would remain.
This is what it feels like to be incomplete, unsettled. Freedom is unbearable without somewhere to go home to.
...but you're gone now.
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| push away your one best friend, and ask yourself
who's going to love you when you reach the end?
"Does Becca not want to have children?"
"No... no, she does... just not with me."
It hit him then, in the moment when the words escaped his mouth and crystallized into truth. He had known it all along, but there was no weight to the idea until it was formulated into those painfully final four words. Just not with me.
They walked along silently for the next several paces; he who recently discovered his own regret, and he who would never admit to his desire to be burdened with the love of another. The Manhattan skyline fell upon them, and the din of the city faded away. It was just the two of them now, caught in a loveless existence, both wondering how they came to be where they were. Years of womanizing and misogyny, years of complete devotion and desire. Together, they walked down the street.
The screech of tires, the flash of headlights. Lost in their own thoughts, neither one saw the speeding car bear down upon them.
Who would sit bedside in a silent vigil for them?
Beneath the beauty of every perfect lie, we find the broken truth.
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| Hell is oneself.
Hell is alone, the other figures in it merely projections.
There is nothing to escape from, and nothing to escape to.
One is always alone.
Three months ago, I moved to the city that never sleeps, the center of the of almost everything on this earth. I surrounded myself with 9 million other people, and told myself that I was moving forward with my life. This time, I told myself, I would be the one outgrowing the past, moving on. New job, new town, new life.
Two months ago, I realized how wrong I was. I realized that I didn't know anyone in this city, and that my lifestyle did not afford the circumstances necessary to recreate a new social base. I comforted myself, knowing that I still had my foundation from past years to return to. I still had my stability, my safety net.
One month ago, you told me that you thought it would be a good idea if we didn't speak again. I respected you. I respected her. Friendship was important to you, and I always understood that. Just not my friendship. We haven't spoken since.
l'enfer, c'est les autres
I don't care to try anymore. This is me, moving on.
Eight years ago, I learned that you don't have to be a bad person to hurt the people that you love. It's easy to justify, when you want to believe that you're doing the right thing. Mind over matter. We can always justify ourselves, because nobody wants to be a bad person. The truth is though, no matter what we tell ourselves, we hurt those we love most when we don't care enough to protect them.
Hell is being alone, when surrounded by people.
Every moment is a fresh beginning.
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| if i had known you, i would have loved you first
I find myself caught in the void where metaphor collides with reality; the tangential point where supposition touches upon absolute existence and unflinchingly continues on its way, leaving us to wonder if in fact, the two ever met. I imagine a time when the comings and goings of our lives have so entwined us, so entangled us in a helical embrace, that the lines of our lives grow upon each other and build, for each other, the map of our future.
This is sublimation: the evaporation of that which we once knew to be solid, the foundation we once secured ourselves to.
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