short story

31-08-2020 – The day before starting the Academic year 2020-2021.

The sun was shining. I was sitting outside, on the balcony, taking my last moments of freedom in. Breath in through the cigarette, breathe out through the mouth. Meditational preparation for the months to come. And as I sat in the warmth and in the smoke, a flock of birds flew by. Synchronized air swimmers. I gazed at them. Got dizzy. Closed my eyes. Fell. I fell down the rabbit hole: back to summer, back to forests and mountains, back to ice creams in shitty highway truck stops, back to swimming in the ice-cold lake. Back. And yet, tomorrow it starts again. Farewell, sunshine, naps, diners with the family, lazy afternoons reading books. Tomorrow you will get back on the rails, back in the game. Tomorrow you will fall into hibernation. Tomorrow you will go from butterfly to caterpillar. Tomorrow, the rollercoaster starts. The sun was shining. I was sitting outside, on the balcony. My cigarette was out. Tomorrow had come. 

22-09-2020 – The day that lasted 16 hours.

She is one of those women who want to be free. Light, frivolous, severe, and profound. A yet-to-be-discovered mountain, filled with detours, peaks, and streams. One of those mysterious ones. When you look at her, you can taste all of her adventures in your mouth. Her skin, her eyes, her hair. They scream so much life. She is a mirage woman. Occurrence dragging unknown luggage. She’s an Open House. “Come in, come in, and admire the fireplace, the flooring, the high ceilings.” A house where everyone is welcome. Until she isn’t anymore. Suddenly, she’s gone. She leaves, arrives, comes back, wakes up at dawn, sleeps in a fetal position, runs to feel the wind whip her cheeks, swims in every stream she encounters. She is gust, tornado, and calm after the storm. She is campfire; luminous and burning, she carries the setting sun and gives birth to the twilight sky. Then, exhausted, she lays down to count the shooting stars. 

28-09-2020 – The day I had a board meeting, a lecture, five interviews, a group project meeting, a mentor meeting and a date.

Here we go. It’s done. Gone. Waterfall eyes. The water keeps coming down. I’m taken away by the torrent created in the collision of too many forces. I see myself drifting away. Way too far. I can’t reach myself anymore. I want to but I will only get soaking wet from too many emotions. It hits me in waves. One. And I manage to shove it back into that forgotten, dusty corner inside of me. Two. That one hurt, but everything is going to be ok. Three. Scar on my emotions. Four. I’m gasping for air. Fuck, I’m drowning! Five. It’s too real… I felt so good, comfortably seated on my sofa, surrounded by my denial pillows. Watching the waterfall from afar and safe place because everybody knows that the sun always shines after the storm. It’s so easy to believe in it from under the warm covers. But their sun is not that goddamn shiny when I walk between the ruins the storm has left me with. The storm took it away. Took me away. I know I created the wind but… it’s too much. Too strong. I love you, come back! Please come back… You don’t hear me. Or I don’t scream loud enough. It feels like my whole body is screaming though. I’m drifting apart from myself and I kind of want to let myself sink. It would be so easy: the numb body at the bottom of the lake with the colorful fishes and algae. My tears and the lake become one, but could I still taste them from the other side? 

15-10-2020 – The day of two simultaneous classes and three meetings.

I’m beige. Done. Empty. My lungs stopped working. I’m now always stuck with half a breath in between my lungs. Mid-air suspension of disbelief. I’m stuck. I’m beige. 

07-11-2020 – The day I got an 8.5 for an exam I didn’t study for..

And then you have miracle days. Days where emotion and beauty hit you at full blast, right in the chest. Days where you finally feel like the air is penetrating your lungs, where you can breathe without that knot in your stomach. Days of magnificence, of infinite autumn forests, of the ocean seen from a cliff. Days of salty air hanging around in your hair and of wildflowers filling your mouth. Days where you feel you are shining as much as the sun that gently roasts your skin and makes it drizzle. Days where I can venture outside of my comfortable shell of denial. Days where, slowly, I feel like I can see the pretty things again, the details, the laughs, the nature. Nature is so beautiful and colorful. Nature dies one time a year and always reconstructs herself. 

26-11-2020 – The day where everything became too much.

The alcoholic’s poem. I’m craving loss of control. My body has the shake of a thousand party ants in my belly. It’s been too long without the disco ball in my eyes. I feel the lack of strong alcohol in my blood. I have been flirting with the bottle of white in the fridge for the past three days, but we didn’t have the courage to approach each other. Didn’t have the courage to make the first move. Sexual tension at 13.5%. I’m waiting for the tension to hit its peak. Anticipation for the moment of liberation. And when the moment comes, we will dance under the strobe lights, to the rhythm of the shots, drinks, strangers’ lips, and peeing breaks. You’ll be able to find us, dancing on the sound boxes or at the arm of anyone who knows how to keep us hydrated. Drunk enough to destroy the alcohol test, destroy glasses, destroy my neurons and my liver. The hungover is going to hurt, but that little white is so soft, so sweet. He makes my head turn when I close my eyes. The room as well. Little white, make me see unexplored parts of the dancefloor. Let’s colonize clubs from the other side of the world. Losing my inhibition. Going over my limits but not remembering in the morning. Needing an awkward stop in the bushes as the taxi is waiting for me in a no-parking zone. Come on alcohol, make me lose control again.

27-11-2020 – The day I cried on opening my eyes and realized I needed to do drop something.

I’m spinning. Literally. Spinning around in circles, like a dog running after its tail. And the more I turn, the more I try to catch that god damn tail, the more I see it shrink, the more I see it evaporate into thin air. I’m exhausted. What about a nap? Isn’t that what dogs do? But I’m not a dog. And I can’t permit myself a break on a comfortable cushion in the sunrays. I can’t take time to wag my tail while looking around in fascination. No, I need to spin. Turn faster. Faster. Faster! And don’t you dare think about taking a break again.

09-12-2020 – The day I decided to drop something. The day I finally took a breath. 

Once upon a time in a far, far land, was a girl who desperately needed to get away. Get out of my head ready to explode, just for a second. I need air. I want long roads, trees and kilometres. I want to drive until my eyes cannot see, eat in a ratchet snack-bar and meet sketchy people. I crave the adrenaline of the unknown, the beauty of being bored, the possibility of have both. I am longing for a moment of decision. I’m tired of being dragged around. I want to forget who I am for a brief moment. Sing my voracious desire to live on the rhythms of local radio. Just be. Not more than that. A real and raw existence. Fuck the artifices and the fakes smiles. I want to feel more than a polar bear in a zoo, more than a circus monkey, more than those people trapped in a 9 to 5 job. I want to run naked in a field of sunflowers. At sunset. I want to let my soul dance with the flames of that setting sun, and let the warmth give back sensation to my numbed heart. Damned numbness. I can finally show you the door. There’s no place for you here. No. I am full of fire, pines and sunsets. Sunsets until the eye can see. And I breathe. And I become one with all that beautifulness. With nature. I am the trees in photosynthesis. Needing sun and light to grow. Needing space to grow, to lay down my roots. The chlorophyl in my veins is running, and slowly, really slowly, a garden is created. Marguerites, and wild flowers in my lungs, forest in my head. My little ecosystem lives. Peacefully. It can survive to my internal storms, reconstructs itself and adapt to the changing seasons. It breathes and lives. It lives to explore and for adventure, and so I drive. No idea where to, but at night, laying in the grass, I look at the stars without all the light pollution and I know that everything will work itself out. For real this time. 

29-01-2021 – The day of my Birthday and of the semester’s last deadlines. 

I can already see you coming towards me. You are calling my name. I am in love. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Freedom. In a dream I already took your hand and now we’re here, floating in the purple desert sky. The full moon is watching us and smiles. Two lost souls who found their way to the cave of wonders. Swimming in diamonds with gold in our hair. “Don’t touch the forbidden treasure.” Suddenly, a turmoil. And the lion roars his rage to the infinite sands where our lovers lay, asleep. Between them, a lamb. And a lucky one at that. The duo, with child and with richness continues its flight until they fall into the sunlight. Blind and burning, but only from love, they know they’ve found their home. Guardians of the desert, kings of mountains, here they rule. Every night, they watch the moon appear out of the sun’s fire. Every night, they float around one another just like the first day. Every night, they make love while the lamb is fast asleep. I make love to freedom. I devour it until I am pregnant with its fruit. My belly is freedom, my mouth is freedom and my soul as well.