The typewriter starts to sound again. All its rustiness and dirt are being removed by the slow movement of thoughts that are trying to take the leap towards the paper, for the first time in years. Many have died, tragically, in the past few months and many others have been accumulating in this sort of cemetery that my brain has come to form around my whole existence, heavily guarded by the twins, loneliness and grim, in which all hopes are put on.
I’m running towards death…
In essence we all are. Some try to escape it, others just walk down the path slowly. I’m just running towards it the same way one may run to embrace a loved one. I’m in love with the concept of dying a peaceful death instead of living this painful life I’m married to. I’ll cheat life with death every day the same way I’ve been trying to prolong my destiny to achieve a thing or two. Not necessary.
...where I belong.
How long would it be to be long gone? I don’t dream of victory over death or over life anymore. I’m just filling up my bucket list. So much has been checked in 36 years but now’s the time to stop adding to the list. The neverending story of desire, success and failure. I managed to become almost everything I wanted to be… I also managed to be the opposite of the same. I fought through wind and hail, got caught up in many a storm, and learned to plane, to spread my wings, even broke and with starving heart, body and soul.
I’ve become more than I expected…
In the thousands of years that I lived in just the current time I’m living, I saw the many faces god and most of the time appeared before the peoples of the world with a grave face or even a smile… changed voices, acted surprised when I knew the answer before the question was made… went from nothing to everything in a second and then, crashed ominously against my own, to die time and again, a thousand times too.
...and it’s more than enough.
What is to be expected when I’m gone? We don’t even know what being gone means… gone where? How can I keep imagining the sadness I might sow and grow into the hearts of the people that is not even here by my side? I know a thousand people that may still remember me but how? The time has come to settle and become quiet for once in a lifetime in which many would hit me in my mouth just to shut up… how many have already erased my face and name and life from theirs? I know a bunch that already did and they were the closest to my heart. They are wise as everyone else that did it… I’m just obsolete.
The thoughts that were rushing are now silent again. Many words were killed before they were posted. The painting in the wall stopped staring to the poor old writer while mourning the many words that never made it. Now, it’s just about finishing the bucket list of useless things that'll put a smile and die a peaceful death with all the words we never said.
