Pretty often I refer in my writings to people from my past, or memories with people from my present, rarely affirmations of future possibilities. You see, I had a perfect poem ready for this task, but poems were not allowed. Nonetheless, this is still the story I wish to write about. I still believe it’s the one that taught me the most.
Who I met was a guy, not for the first time, I can’t quite remember the number of times we’ve seen each other before that. Probably because the number is too big. We were on an art show, nothing fancy, pretty crowded. We weren’t there together though. I was enjoying red wine in my friends’ company, a bit more than necessary myself. I was getting bored by all those people there, mostly because I had him on my mind and he was nowhere to be found, at least not beside me. The opening speech ended, and I immediately left outside. I always tend to take the last ride on the show, when it’s the least crowded. I was getting high, overlooking the town. It reminded me of our talks, always exclusive, extra and enthusiastic. But rather guarded, he kept some things I wished to explore closed off. As we approached back inside I heard this laugh, distantly fading towards the men’s room. I knew who it was. I stomped, no second guess, no second thought. It concluded to this inconvenient “hi”, but there was another guy in there. I was never going to fall for that face, I felt he didn’t know I’m bringing fire behind me, to get answers I so desperately believed I needed. It was the first time I feared myself, or what was I ready to become, nowhere near a negative context, more like balancing another person’s state. I pushed him to the wall, -“It’s me, is this really what you’re afraid of?”, I asked. I didn’t actually expect an answer, but it cooled down the presence of his words saying “he’s your bad copy”.
I had no other choice but to let him go, in every meaning depth this phrase brings with itself. I pulled back my hands, he stormed out. Everyone had already gone, it was past midnight. My friends were there keeping the afterparty alive, well aware of what’s going on. Even before I said goodbye outside, I felt sorry for it. And a long time passed before today, I can realize, I really shouldn’t. I don’t! And I guess that’s what growth means, finding purpose of those most uncomfortable moments, the crippling inner depths. Those you think sleep under your bed. You know them?