Το Γαλάζιο Κασκόλ

Το φορούσε με τη ριγέ τη μπλούζα, επειδή της ταίριαζε. Και περπατούσε στον βρεγμένο πεζόδρομο  τις παγωμένες μέρες που φυσούσε άγρια ο αέρας και χόρευε το γαλάζιο κασκόλ. Περπατούσε και γυρνούσαν τα κεφάλια κι εκείνη ήξερε πως δεν ήταν για τα θαλασσιά της μάτια, αλλά για το γαλάζιο κασκόλ που στριφογύριζε στον ξέφρενο ρυθμό του αέρα.

Θάλασσα τα μάτια της, ουρανός το κασκόλ. Ήθελε κι εκείνη να έχει λίγο γαλάζιο στα μάτια της για να μην σκουραίνουν ποτέ, για να μην βλέπει κανείς τη φουρτούνα μέσα τους όταν θύμωνε ή στενοχωριόταν. Ήθελε κι εκείνη ξέγνοιαστα να χόρευε τον χορό της ζωής. Πολλά ήθελε. Γεννήθηκε όμως με αυτά τα μάτια και συνεχώς έψαχνε για το γλυκό γαλάζιο, για να της υπενθυμίζει την ξεγνοιασιά, για να της καταλαγιάζει τις φουρτούνες. Κάπως, λοιπόν, ανακάλυψε ένα καταγάλανο κασκόλ. Δεν ήταν κραυγαλέο γαλάζιο όμως· ήταν ένα γαλάζιο απαλό σαν τον γλυκό ανοιξιάτικο ουρανό.

Περπατούσε, όπως πάντα, σ’ένα σοκάκι κάποιας πολυσύχναστης πόλης. Ως συνήθως είχε αφεθεί να την παρασύρει ο ρυθμός της. Ανάσαινε τις φωνές των περαστικών, άκουγε τον πόνο της καρδιάς των νέων, έβλεπε δάκρυα πίσω από χαμόγελα και… λυπότανε τον κόσμο. Παντού σκούρα χρώματα μιας αδειανής υπερπληθούς πόλης. Παντού άγνωστα πρόσωπα που μπορεί να ήξερες κάποτε, σε μια άλλη ζωή. Ξεχείλιζε μιζέρια αυτή η πόλη κι εκείνη έψαχνε το γαλάζιο μέσα της για να τη φωτίσει, για να φωτίσει και την ίδια της τη ζωή.

Εμφανίστηκε το κασκόλ, στη βιτρίνα ενός μαγαζιού ταλαιπωρημένου απ’το χρόνο. Εμφανίστηκε, κι εκείνη έμεινε να το κοιτάζει, σα να μη το πίστευε, σα να μην πίστευε το άπλετο φως που εξέπεμπε το γαλάζιο ύφασμα. Άνοιξε την βαριά πόρτα του μαγαζιού και δεν κατάλαβε για πότε το πλήρωσε και για πότε το φόρεσε γύρω απ’τον λαιμό της. Βγαίνοντας απ’το μαγαζί συνειδητοποίησε πως φορούσε τη ριγέ τη μπλούζα και αποφάσισε πως ταίριαζε με το κασκόλ. Μα αυτό που την εξέπληξε ήταν ότι άλλαξε το χρώμα των ματιών της από τότε που το έβαλε.  Γέμισε φως κι ελπίδα για τον μουντό, σκουρόχρωμο κόσμο και για την ασημόγκριζη ζωή.

Confusion

I reach for my pocket and find my earphones tangled, once again. I take them out and try to untangle them, balancing a cigaret on my lips. It’s raining again, I think to myself. Great. I plug the earphones into my phone and start playing “Cough Syrup” on Spotify, while walking towards the wet muddy park. I love walking and smoking even though it can be quite difficult when it’s raining. If you’re wondering why I smoke, it’s because I’m anxious and confused; about everything, all the time. The cigaret is my way of dealing with all this anxiety without really dealing with it. Cigarets aren’t very helpful with forgetting, however. I used to drink to drown my problems and immerse myself in this ecstatic transcendence. I used to transform into this other person; little did I know that the day after, the pain would hit me harder than the day before. So, I stopped drinking to deal with the pain, to learn how to live with it.

I open my eyes and I am now standing on the bridge, looking at the river Kelvin confused as to how I got here. I have a new unlit cigaret on my hand. Odd. I zone out sometimes. I get lost in the maze-like wagons of my train of thought. I get fixated on the past and often confuse it with the present. I need to keep reminding myself that they are more than separate. In fact, it feels as though they are two different lives of two different people. I was a naive unhappy child and I am a slightly happier, perplexed and angry adult. Life is more confusing than ever.

As I lay my eyes on the running Kelvin, I can’t help but wonder: what if I were a tiny little drop of water in this roaming river? Would I feel free then? Free from worries and problems and a thousand unanswered questions. I reckon I wouldn’t feel that empty if I were that crystal clear drop. Too many feelings have made me feel absolutely nothing. Even filling myself with smoke feels like nothing. ‘Nothing’ is confusing.

I close my eyes and when I open them again I’m in my apartment, guitar in hand. I’m so tired and dizzy from zoning out. I know how I got here this time, but it seems distant, insignificant. Anyway, apparently, I’m singing now… and there’s a distinct sting near my heart. It feels like… I’m feeling again. I know it’s pain that I feel, I remember it clearly now… but at least it’s better than nothing. I sing painful heartbreak songs and I suddenly feel warm tears running down my face, just like the river is running across the face of the earth. It somehow feels liberating that the tears don’t seem to be stopping.  They run from my eyes to my cheeks, to my guitar and land on my leg. I cry for the unanswered questions mostly. I cry out of confusion. I don’t know what lies ahead even though I want to. I want answers, meaning, significance.

I close my eyes and when I open them, it’s a new day.

The Bad Influence Letter

Dear astronaut-to-be,

You were like a small sparkling light that came in my life and turned everything upside down. You helped me so much, too. I was destroying myself and you were there to slow down and, eventually, stop the process.

You were a bad influence on me. You were part light and part darkness; when you give a depressed person someone like you, they’ll suck out the light and then… the only thing left will be darkness. I turned into someone I didn’t recognize. Someone who stopped caring about herself completely and got attached to someone who was afraid of love and attachment. I let you into my life, into my own house and you became my drug, my addiction, my ‘way out’ of my misery. Little did I know, you’d soon be a part of that very misery… After giving you everything in return for nothing, I felt lost and deprived of anything happy. My sparkling light had gone off and I didn’t realize it soon enough.

You were an important life lesson. You, my bad influence, taught me a lesson about trust. I trusted you, I let you into my life without thinking about it. I should have, though. Thank you for teaching me that trust is something people in your life earn and not something that’s given without any thought.

What I found particularly irritating and interesting is that, when you thought you had lost me, you suddenly developed an interest in me. Funny. VERY funny. Finally, you were (kind of) out of my life and then you let yourself in again, without even asking. However, I had learned my lesson. I moved on. I was finally happy and you were merely a part of my life.

You know, I’m sure I’ll never see you again, but you were one of the most important people who passed by my life. I just wished that you cared when I did, that you weren’t so self-absorbed.

Anyway… It’s pretty pointless to whine about the past. It can’t be really changed, after all. You only move on from the past with life lessons, and I did move on. I’m grateful you were a part of my life, even though you are partly responsible for the trust issues I have.

Of course, I’ll never forget your sparkling light, little astronaut.

Think of me when you shoot for the stars,

M

P.S.: That black dress is my favorite too.