She sits down. The weight of the world has tired her today. She has done nothing but think, yet thinking can be heavy on the heart, specially if your thoughts have thorns. She has a glass of water. It tastes different, and she wonders why. How can plain water taste different? But everything does, she then realizes. Everything tastes different now.
She has absolutely no plans and she doesn’t want to have them, because accidents only happen when something was supposed to be some other way. She’s getting rid of the lists, of the far-fetched suppositions. She wants to just BE. The bad thing is, today she doesn’t want to be either. She doesn’t know what to want anymore.
She stares at lines and dots and letters and numbers, but they’re all bad news. Even the good news are bad news in days as grey as today. Would it make more sense if there was someone beside her? Maybe, but who knows? She didn’t even want it to make sense. Not anymore. It meant nothing, so many miles away.
She turns to the window. It’s not raining, but somehow her heart feels like it usually does on a rainy day. The sun is out but isn’t smiling, not even trying to. It’s just there, mocking the poor souls that are obviously in need of some light; some warmth to acompany them through the chords and through the memories.
Her soul, independent and cheerful for months, went back down to the dungeons of her own being. She listened to the crashing of her own mind. She was hurting, or to be more accurate, he was. He hurt in her head, in her heart, in her stomach, in her knees. He was her own personal brand of cancer.
Her legs wanted out so she decided to stand up. Maybe she could walk it out, throw it on the floor and forget about the best and worst day of her life. The problem was, she was permanently tied to the notes that were played between that epic sunrise and that dangerous sunset. No one ever could have composed such a beautiful, intense, chaotic opera of the unexpected! Now the echoes marched on in the darkest corners of her mind.
At this point, she was standing in the middle of nowhere; those all-too-familiar four walls weren’t welcome in her eyes. If only he was here, she thought. But, at the same time, she could think of no scenario or parallel universe in which they could breathe again the same air. There was once a time for that, and it had run out way too soon.
Now she wanted him there for all the “wrong” reasons. Wrong, wrong, wrong. All the fun in the world had removed any meaning from that word. The only wrong thing to do was regretting. But regrets are not about what one does, but ’bout what one doesn’t. To her, it was all logical. But for that precise reason is that he annoyed her so much. He had never been part of the no-plans plan of hers.