“Why did you bring me here?”
While staring at this little spot of life you look dazed.
“This is my place”
My presentation is trivial but is the only one possible. While I look at you, standing on the rocks, I wonder whether I made a mistake deciding to bring you here with me.
“It’s quite an unusual place to meet, don’t you think?”
Normally I defend myself by countering to your questions, but this time I want my words to hurt you. I thought you knew me enough to understand what I feel being here.
“Indeed, it would have been easier to have a coffee downtown, just like you do with everyone else”.
Well, to let the enemy feel the border of your open wounds is not exactly the best defence, nor the best attack. I try to focus on the sound of the water falling straight and certain from the cliff, to finish blending in this little body of water before us. Unware of the impossibility of altering its own flow, it just keeps falling. I could never be like water. I need to go back over the path already covered, I have to retrace our conversations to understand in which collision of commonplaces we keep losing our way.
“Do you really think it was hard for me getting here?” You sit down, and your movements are flexible while bending your defined muscles.
“It’s uncommon to see you struggling, so definitely... seeing you weary makes me think so.” Anxiety makes me provoking, sharper, more rugged than the rocks around us.
“Perhaps the real issue is you, always living like you were on a continuous fight”, you smile to temper my imminent hostilities.
“Relax, this is why we came here.” At last, I sit down too.
At times words come out candid, and you almost don’t realize how much you reveal.
“Am I in the way?” you ask immediately.
“You’re in the way every time you make a question despite knowing the answer.”
We fall silent and maybe this is the only way to convince ourselves we can be dispensable one another. Probably I pretended too much when I thought you could share my feelings. I stay here, between the need someone dissolves the tangle of my undefined sensations and the inclination to protect my chaos from who does not understand. It’s the same old thing: I try to figure out which dosage of my internal world merges better with the one outside, but the balance seems unwilling to quantify my worries and expectations. That’s why I have to come here. I need the force of nature to remind me that the same energy flows in me. As water you can run incessantly, but as a human being you need to learn living with lacks instead of relying on someone to fill the gaps.
“Where did you go?”
I knew I shouldn’t have brought you here with me. While thinking how not to sink into a dim resentment I hear you approaching from behind.
You picked a flower, for me.