I scream. I travel. I couldn’t do anything else. I don’t know any other way. I hate this way of doing things, of travelling, to get rid of an unbearable weight. A journey doesn’t solve anything. All it does is move empty boxes. So incredibly unique to fill and discover, but absurd when you seal them with thousands of rounds of twine, which make everything appear as an endless cobweb.
You made me get used to this state, to this damned feeling of always being somewhere else. I don’t want to be somewhere else. I don’t care.
Any journey can be the right one, none the perfect one. Somehow, I’m with you. Sometimes, I accompany you. I don’t participate. I can’t. Perhaps I don’t even want to. I should stop, but I can’t find the courage. I don’t have enough breath. It takes a lot of breath, even to stop. It takes courage to hit the brakes. Many times, hitting the brakes means changing gears. Most of the time, when we drive in high gears, the ones that somehow have quickly displaced thoughts and actions, we aren’t able to do so. Gears can increase speed, but they need to be understood… felt… otherwise what the heck are they for?
So, as I was saying, when you hit the brakes, your stomach gets catapulted into your throat, and you choke. Perhaps I can’t find the time to do it. I do realise that this could be a limit of yours. Yes, exactly. Because you don’t want to stop either. We don’t want to. We wouldn’t have any excuses, anyway. It’s been a lifetime since you’ve been travelling, and you still don’t know any other ways to live. You’re just so eager to travel. Sometimes, you are in abstinence. That’s the feeling you give me. Never, ever stop. Sometimes, journeys can bore you to death, but it’s always better than nothing at all.
Looking at oneself can be scary; however, somewhere inside of us, I feel… I feel that it helps. It could help. It could actually help. That would be wonderful. I can picture the moment when sweaty, tired, and loaded with useless weight, we stop, breathe, and take a break. Breathe… take a break. In that very moment, everything moves, everything is in motion… everything.
It’s no longer the same, and we can feel it, understand it. We were expecting it. Then you turn around and exclaim: enough! That’s it. Enough. Tell me more. Let’s tell each other everything, absolutely everything, what we are… and nothing else.
As if it were the first day of primary school when all you have to do is answer the roll call. To that lady, who is not your mother, and will repeat your name many other times.
You take me away. You take me away with you. I would like to come as I am, with that lightness that, most of the times, doesn’t want me and doesn’t recognise me. Come on, let’s do it. For us. Let’s stop. We will have our dues to pay, but we’ll think about it later.
In any case, we have learned that there is always a price to pay, which, at the very least, will be quite high.
Without claiming to have understood everything, just with the awe for finally catching a glimpse of something distant. Something that is just ours. Beautiful. Silent.
Something that tastes of us and smells of our fears. Something that tastes of desire. Again, no, better still, that tastes of a surprising discovery.
Let’s let loose of our fears. Let’s throw everything away.
I would do that for you. I would do that for me. I would do that.
And one day we will, you know?
I try to love you in the silence of my thoughts. Sometimes, I even believe I can make it. Yes, I feel you are even closer than that solitary shadow, which, right now, accompanies my thoughts.
I like this feeling. It’s very reassuring.