We walk past each other on the crowded streets.
Sometimes they’re empty, the town’s deserted and our paths would still cross. Sometimes, I wish I knew what was hiding behind those sad, deep eyes. What are you hiding? The same things that I do? Or, perhaps we’re all keeping the same secrets, safely sealed deep inside.
So many times I wanted to talk to you, grab your hand and steal a few moments of your hurried pace, always marching towards an unseen destination. Sadly, you do not even notice me. We walk the same way, everyday, we trot the same streets, we live in the same building, still, you won’t know my name. Once, you looked at me and I was afraid the look in my eyes would give me away; but you continued your journey. Then, I wished for something I never did before, I wished that I could read your mind and eagerly waited for you the next day. At the same corner, where we always passed by each other, I could see you approaching. My heart was pounding – it was a sort of unreasonable joy, I believe that’s what it was. Now it was going to be different, I knew it. This time, you would raise your head and our eyes will meet. The reciprocal sadness would connect.
I could sense your smell approaching me and there you were. Your thoughts, all those feelings that were rushing through your head pierced me: remorse, regrets, sadness, nostalgia, anger and everything else cut into me so deep, now I was bleeding. Our eyes never met and you were soon but a distant shadow, resting at the street corner, before the lights would change. I called you, on your name, hoping you would turn back and reach out a hand. My being was unable to utter yet another sound and slowly, I painfully managed to drag myself towards you, before the lights would go green, I had to make it. I desperately tried to cling on to the other hurried feet, but neither did they seem to see me, nor to hear my cry.
Finally, I reached you.
But you did not seem to be on the run anymore. Neither it seemed that you still avoided me, because now our eyes met. The knifing pain I was feeling, the desperate cries inside of me, the bleeding wounds … they were all there, imprinted on your face and transfigured body.
‘I give up’ you said. ‘I can no longer escape you.’
‘There’s no need to’, I softly whispered, ‘I am here now’ as I slowly started to fade away.
It was me, your wounded, once passionate heart, you were running away from; the amass of feelings you shut yourself away from. You could no longer do away with me. From now on, I am you.