If only, if only, I could shed a drop of tear about it.
I thought, perhaps, my futile contribution could let one of my favourite dandelions grow with the hollow desperation I today generously donated.
It was a thirteen celsius degrees with winds that, finally and surprisingly, weren’t indifferent to my cracking skin. I faintly saw the unusually-humble buildings creepily recording every step i took on the concrete. Undisturbed by the eavesdropping, I was unconsciously whispering something, something important, to the chilling air. They were, in reply, asking me to lengthen my initially-unwanted stay. I looked into the background, into the building which I, in my mind, befriended a few seconds ago. I knew the windows had stolen my iris, yet, all I could do was to receive the wind’s filthy bribe. I could not stay, but did not dare releasing a single word of harshness. So I, secretly, ran away, even though my mild heart was painfully, painfully bleeding. My blood, swiftly and automatically, flowed though my sparse scalp of hair, into my salt-filled bitter eyes, and, into my frail, frail fractured bones. I was able to, for the first time, truly imagine a world without the occupation of my devilish torso; for the first time, walk on the flawed concrete like a brave near-death soldier’s stride.
But here came the passing millionaires-filled limousines. Alas- how I wish they had not witnessed my moment of foolishness.
My self-hatred, nonetheless, happily flew with the naive kite on top of my dreamy head and screamed “oh freedom, oh liberty.” The uncomfortable sounding of these words, especially on the land of “United States of America”, scratched open the wall of my brain. I realised, however beautiful the day was, the only bearable part of my existence was perhaps, still, merely and only, the tiny little fraction that possesses the ability to perceive the transient beauty of the day.
Maybe, maybe, I should let it stay. The rest, I guess, it’s time to get out of beauty’s way mate.