Crime scene

I haven’t been back here for a while, and I realized it is out of fear. Out of fear of seeing you and remembering it all and hurting. But like the criminal that runs and erases the memories of the crime he committed, who subconsciously is drawn back to the scene of the crime, eventually turns up, to open up the wounds and process them.

I mustered enough strength because today I’ve met with friends on the rooftop patio with a marvellous view of the city, and between the drinks, the chats, the music and the city lights melting into the warm Summer dusk I felt so intensely alive that my thoughts wandered back… To you.

I realized how much I don’t know you. How fascinated I was by you that I forgot to breathe. I held my breath as if I didn’t want to disturb some kind of fragile harmony created by our connection, and as I held my breath I forgot to take a good look at you and memorize the color of your eyes, the number of creases around your lips when you smiled. I forgot to question why you wouldn’t kiss me and why you were so sparse with affection, I forgot to question myself as well that maybe you did not see me the way I hoped you would see me: beautiful, desirable, enigmatic, inspiring. Driven by my own desire for your closeness I held my breath, I assumed, closed my eyes, and dove into the unknown. Into the tornado of emotions.

A year ago we were at Toque where we were as distant as it gets, and all I remember about you is that we were sitting beside each other chatting when some rude girl came, interrupted us and asked you to dance, and you got up without a word and went off. That move in a way symbolized our connection and I don’t even understand why I caome back to reminisce about it.

Yet there was, there is something that has not been sealed and closed. An unfinished edge of the slate, that seems to be begging for work, whenever I revisit the crime scene. The metaphor seems a bit harsh, yet again, there is something perfectly fitting about it. And while it needs some more reflection to be molded into the proper words, there is a gut feeling about it that defies all doubt.

Author: thelastdestination

“The closer you come to knowing that you alone create the world of your experience, the more vital it becomes for you to discover just who is doing the creating.” - Eric Micha'el Leventhal “Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.” - Albert Einstein _________________________________ A little piece of my illusion, my reality. Some of my posts are reality and some are fiction, but regardless, they are my own reality. Writing is when I get intimate with my spiritual and intellectual self. And as in any type of intimacy, there is exploring, experimentation and constant discoveries that aim to elevate the pleasures associated with it. Getting in touch with myself again, after years of self-oblivion and denial was unknowingly inspired by a friend and fellow writer. Thank You.

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