Trains

"I would jump in front of a train for you" she whispered. He laughed nervously and he said something like "Don't do that, please", and she realised that he had no idea what she meant. She later explained the difference between "jumping for you" and "jumping because of you", pretending she would never do the later. He looked at her scared and the message hit his walls that were getting higher and higher with every word she said. For her it was just another romantic talk to remember, something sweet she told him while kissing his face and hands and hair. For him it was just another scary thing she said, because he did not see things the way she did. Nobody had ever jumped in front of any train, real or imaginary, neither for him, nor because of him. He was used to being pushed in front of imaginary trains and to a really messed up level that was what he thought love was. So she scared the hell out of him. This girl must be crazy... She was left alone on the life's railway, gazing in the horizon and asking what she could have done differently. She sometimes stares at trains and remembers the talk and contemplates about the possibility of taking one of those trains and leaving all behind. Because he took one train and ran away, leaving her in the train station, eyes drown in tears, waving a handkerchief like an old fashioned hopeless idiot. But if she takes another train, the pain will come with her, traveling in the same body to a different place. She would do anything to make the pain go away, train or no train, even cover it with a bigger pain in the body. Soul pain is the worst, makes you lose your mind and wish you were dead. Death must be sweeter than this, she says. She wonders sometimes if a pile of flesh left after the impact with a train would hurt as badly as a broken soul. But that would mean jumping in front of a train because of him, not for him. And she promissed not to... Trains come and go. She stays, no longer waiting, no longer hoping. She dies a bit with every train she has no courage to jump in front of.

Permissions

I kindly ask permission to suffer. I need time off to fall on the cold ground and feel it all, to collect my thoughts, to solve all the puzzles, to make sense of it all, reconstruct the truth, and breath. I need to fall deep, to the darkest abyss of them all, to feel the fear and the terror and to survive it, and to use that cold bottom as a trampoline to jump back in the game.  I need permission to be fully live for a bit, to bleed it all out, cry, shout, suffocate and breath deeply again, till I live the moment, till I gain the power to be back with you. I need permission to dissapear and to pretend and to lie and to play games and to be mean and cruel, to hide my face in order to make sure I survive this. I need to be coward for a bit, just to be able to show the courage I hold inside me.  I kindly ask permission not to care anymore, to treat all the rest with a fake smile, to turn my back at their laughter, to send them all to hell with a smile.  I kindly ask permission to search for the power to hate, the greatest power of them all. I want to hate in order to survive and to want to survive. I want the power to cross a bridge withour losing myself in denial and hope.  I kinkly ask permission to live. And to leave, to go away from it all, to hide my face for a while and uncover it later, all cried and changed forever, carved by pain and regret and questions.  I kindly ask permission to grief the loss of my soul and to wait for its return to my body, as I am empty like an airoport during pandemic, and scared and alone.  Permission granted.

Run

Source

You run and you run, you barely turn your head, just careful where you step, finding obstacles and surpassing them artististicly. Than you put on half a smile, satisfied. 

And you run and you run. Behind you a history of pain, around you questions unanswered, in front of you the fog of uncertainty. 

And you run and you run. At times you fall. Sometimes you hurt your knees and that makes it difficult to go on running. But you always find a nice way around it. Other times you step in mud and you stop a bit to look at yourself disgusted. But you hope for a rain to wash it all off.

And you run and you run. Here and there passers-by wisper in your ears "manipulation". Other hold red flags up high and they nearly pull them straight to your eyes. You stop a bit, reflect, breath in, and go again.

And you run and you run. Your feet get tired and painful, but they are trained to run. I mean, what is the alternative, freeze? Or maybe..fight?

And you run and you run...