INFINITY ∞

There is a lump in my stomach. It means I cannot forget, I am suppressing. I swallowed my pain and its revolving inside. Sometimes I swallow my fear and the same thing happens.

It is all because I love you or at least I think I love you and maybe it is love that I swallowed. Now love wants to get out. Just maybe.

Everything gets into this weird slow motion. Expecting a word, pining for a sentence as if it takes forever for you to write a sentence or two. It is as if it takes infinity for us to connect, to touch, to feel, to connect. In fact, it is an anticipation of something that really is not coming because it is stuck in another dimension.

 Composed by Hans Zimmer

The word is so slow to come as if you are tired. I do not know what you are tired of. Tired of life, exhausted of your own expectations, broken promises and unfulfilled dreams.

What am I trying to do? To make you feel better, to fill the void? All I am doing is probably nothing. I am standing in this parallel world and you are running in yours. They will never converge.

When I am in my world I get the feeling I am divided, I am separated from you by my fantasies and my vanity. My fantasies can only make your world and my converge towards one wish.  Wish to talk with you or just to touch your hand. Does this sound pathetic? There is no pathos there at all for sure. But, it is just a simple wish.

I wish to talk with you. What am I saying? I am already talking with you in my head. Constantly. I do not understand the need or urge to talk with you in my head. I think I can even feel you sometimes and you might as well not exist at all.

The very thought of you turns my bleak existence into a fairy tale. I do not have a clue how that happens. Somebody might call it daydreaming but it is not at all what it is. What do they know? I am trying to catch the dream but it keeps slipping through my net.

Illustration by Simon Stalenhag

Some people say love does not exist. Some people think it does exist and that it is basically a feeling, a passion, lust.  Love might be all that and more. I discovered that it is like a jigsaw puzzle made up of all the pieces you can think of, like emotions, passion, lust, honesty, understanding, patience, forgiveness, respect, adaptability. The list goes on. 

The jigsaw puzzle can turn into a fairy tale but just for a little while. Then the fairytale, slow motions, loops, gravity, gravitational pools, deja vus, feelings of the will of the wisps around me disappear and everything goes back to "normal".

Love is a jigsaw puzzle with lots of pieces. Our jigsaw puzzle resembles a dream inside of a dream. It is the "lucidest" dream that has ever existed because it exists only in my head. But it doesn`t.

The words you never say or write, the stop-motion of it all, of someone directing it towards an unhappy ending, towards the beginning of a mundane story.  All in all, I am talking to myself and you are just a figment or a better version of myself. How egotistical of me. Where are you in this constellation of things, in this construct of mine?

It is as if you are a part of me ripped out but still a part of me. Maybe you are just a particle, a fragment, a better version of yourself. And Lo, I am Brahma and Shiva. I make and I destroy. You are the clay out of which I make you and then I destroy you. 

The love that slips easily away, the love that talks only about itself, its own problems, its fears and hopes like I do not exist.
And so it goes. I do not exist as the other particle. I am also a fragment, a side-something, anticipated but never even conceived.