Land of the Lost

I stood there for a long while, my mind drifting off in a sort of psychological no man’s land that will always remain wordlessly imperceptible to me, until some noise drew me out. The coffin lid was still up and it was all about horizontal lines and dark shades of white. There wasn’t much sense in any thing, living or dead. That, and I stood still there, alone.
Words and sounds came in echo all around me, I was passive, they were active. Linguistics and semantics. I remembered sentences, quotes, was reminded some things that I had said. Awful things mostly – an eternal trick of the mind.

His face was the same as usual, except for the beard. It was trimmed now, lightly cut and well in order. Everything it had never been; everything he had never been. And he smiled, a fake smile, that smile he always refused to put on his face. I didn’t smile either, for I was highly trying to forget things that were now coming unburied. He said, why the hell would I have to smile? Especially for no reason? I said well, it’s a way to be positive, to bring out your luck, be on good terms with the universe. Luck is for losers. That was all he had for an answer.

I was convinced there were some things left unsaid; there always are. Be careful, he once said, you’re in trouble, a hell of a lot of trouble. You’re on the wrong path. What are you talking about, I said. He frowned, turned around, and sat down to his thoughts and beers. I never got to the bottom of that, and we parted in so many different ways that it would take me too long to enumerate. Certains things said, can never be unsaid – a teacher of ours had said that. Well some things unsaid, will always remain that way.

My feet felt stuck to the floor just as my eyes felt drawn to his face. His pale, smiling face, which was not really his anymore. What will we become? Will we ever get what we deserve? Those were the things he constantly asked, wrote about. He smoked too, and drank. But nobody ever cared about that, it made him social, it always does and that’s what matters. We pay no attention until everything is too late, has turned down to shit. No reason to smile about that, I said, arsehole.

I put my hand on his chest, tight, hard. Cold. Everything was cold, frozen. I too felt that way, outside, inside, entirely. Frozen in the past, among thoughts and people that have been long gone, others that have left scars or marks, deep and still hurting. Why did that happen? Why did we get that way? Answers are never truly that easy, I was convinced of that. I blinked and felt something else.

Everybody is in this life for themselves, he had said, before turning around and leaving, never to return.


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