|
||
|
||
|
||
|
05.04.2006., srijeda
Untitled
It was a silent night. I was standing by a large tree; it was the place where we used to come often. Now it seems so deserted and so alone. And it is alone. I'm the only one here now. It is so alone. I wiped away my tears and started to walk. I knew not where am I going and I cared not. I just wanted to leave, to walk, and not to think about her. But I thought about her all the time. She was in my every step, my every breath, and my every heartbeat. I felt like she was with me the whole time, but still I missed her so much. It teared me apart. I wanted to join her, to do anything I could to be with her, even if it meant to kill myself. But I just couldn't do it. I knew that she would never want me to do that. It almost felt as if she was telling me not to do it. I could almost hear her. I wanted to hear her. I wanted her to whisper in my ear, to put her arms around me and to prove me that she is still here, alive. But I was just standing there, in the middle of the street - alone. It was a warm night. It would be so much easier if it were raining. But this is not a movie, deaths are not that perfect in real life. Time does not flow that fast. And to me, time was standing still. I didn't care how many seconds or minutes or hours or days or even years had passed. I could stand there forever if only I knew she would eventually come. But she never came. I knew that I have to keep moving. I knew that that's what she would want me to do. I knew it all. Oh how I wished that I didn't know anything, that I was just a statue, without my own feelings, without my own past and without my own future. But statues don't cry. And I was crying. I was crying. And then the tears stopped. I looked around. There were people around me. Some looked at me, some didn't. Some laughed at me, some smiled with compassion. I wiped the remaining tears from my cheek, and I noticed my hand... It looked old. I looked at my other hand. It looked old too. I walked to a nearby fontain and looked down. My face... It looked old too. I was an old man now. I turned around and head back from where I came from, or at least from where I last remembered that I came from. It was a sunny morning. When I got there, I could barely breathe. I guess I really was an old man now. The tree was still there. It looked so superior to me in every way. It could not move or talk or even look, but it was so peaceful and calm, and so proud and strong and who knows how many decades has it been here, and I was nothing compared to it. Just an old broken man, still mourning for it's loss. But had the tree ever loved? Does it know of the joy one feels when he falls in love, the feeling when nothing seems impissible. No, the feeling when nothing *is* impossible? Does it know of the pain one feels when he lose all that? Oh yes, that reminded me. I know that pain. I know it very well. Has it been so long that I forgot about it? It doesn't matter now, cause soon I will see her. I can feel it. I will see her again. But will she recognize me? I'm an old man now. Will she love me the way she did before? Will she love me at all? It was a sunny morning when for the last time I closed my eyes.
- 21:18 -
Komentiraj (21) -
Link Posta
|
|
|
|
Dnevnik.hr |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Hide Calendar | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Show Calendar | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Hide Comment Box | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Show Comment Box | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Comments (on/off) | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Comments (on/off) | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
"Bog je mrtav." |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||