The Other Blog

I woke up this morning to the sound of the dainty raindrops on my window-pane. How lovely the sky looks, steel grey. All the buildings and all the trees seem to have been reborn, fresh from a heavenly bath. The wind sighs contently, as the breeze blows gently by my ear. No sounds of cars or other machines this morning. All I hear is the chirping of birds. A smile fades gracefully from my face, to be replaced immediately by another, just the way one happy thought fades and re-forms into another. It is because of mornings like this that I am happy to be alive. What a perfect time to stand close to you and whisper, “I love you”…

…but it’s such a pity that I don’t.

What would I give to be away from here - away from what life has become?
I don’t remember the last time I heard the chirping of a bird. How sad.
My body’s here in tranquility, every bit of it except my heart, which every now and then suddenly beats faster for a few seconds, reflecting perhaps the sudden occurrence of a frustrated thought - a silent scream of pain coming from a wild soul put on hold…

6.50pm… I wish this moment would stand still for a while… enough for me to take it in until my desire to witness beauty is satisfied. Looking out of the window of my noisy train, I see a greying world with just a tinge of colour, like an artist delicately touching up a charcoal painting with a pastel-paint brush. The sky is lit with a strange grey light. The sun has already set, and the moon is yet to rise. Nevertheless, this grey glow lights up the world, gifting it an almost magical, mystical visibility, lovely to behold. I wish this moment would stand still for a while………

6.57pm… the sky has darkened… the moment is gone.

Black as the night. Black as the thoughts in my head, flitting around like butterflies… chasing them away. I lie in bed, awake, head on my salty pillow, and think about you. It’s not appropriate… it’s not likely to happen… it’ll never happen. Black and white are imcompatible… some things never change.

Again tonight, I think I’ll cry myself to sleep… in the darkness, I think I’ll dream about your face, I think I’ll think about about your smile, and how it would be if you’d smile at me all the time, forever. What should I do… what can I do to make you like me?

Maybe I’ll cut myself and end up in a hospital,
Maybe you’ll see me then.
Maybe I’ll die or disappear completely,
Maybe you’ll think of me then.

Or maybe, no matter what I do, nothing will change… I’ll always be in the background, just another ordinary boy. You’re not like any of the other girls, but I’m just like every other boy. I don’t stand a chance… some things never change.

At the edge of the cliff I stand. The golden eagles under the golden sun circle around my head. A black and white vulture watches keenly… waiting, perhaps? The wind is just a whisper, whispering in my ear. I’m so calm… how can it be? I’ve walked down this road a thousand times, a thousand miles, and have never gone beyond this point. This edge… so alluring. If I could, I’d speak a thousand things, a thousand different feelings pouring out all at once.

Smiling, I look over the edge. A thousand feet below, the pellucid water beckons me. It’s high-noon, and yet, the wind is calm and cool, waiting and watching. If you were here with me now, what would you say, what would you do? Everything stands still here, at the edge of the cliff. The eagles seem frozen in a never-ending circular loop, the vultures are still watching impatiently, not moving a muscle. In the distance, somewhere far below, life goes on… but here, by myself, everything is still.

I’ll close my eyes… watch the million faces appear again… all the while knowing, that even among these, I’ll come straight to you… I’ll recognize you by the way my heartbeat changes when I’m near you. I’ll recognize you by my sudden desire to stay alive. You bring a smile to my face. You give me a reason to live… I think I’ll get up and walk away for now, leaving this cliff alone again; maybe I’ll come back here later… maybe with you. Maybe I’ll come alone again, only to stand at the edge of the cliff, and maybe then, the wind will push me harder, and I’ll float off the edge.