Why does it sometimes take so long before we see? Before we understand? Before our delusions are eaten by disillusionment? And how come we fall so fast and deep for illusion in the beginning?
A lingering gaze, a few words spoken, a certain energy sparking between two persons, a handshake, locked eyes for that second too long and nothing is as it was before. Every stone turned, a life fragmented into millions of glittering shards, each razor sharp, the most beautiful weapon to cut up your heart and mind and soul, leave you on that battlefield of what was your life.
So much blood.
Nothing but blood in which you are standing. Puzzled. Unable to move. Standing. Tall. Broken. Still standing though.
A tsunami of feelings washing over you. The white water of losing your heart, your mind, your life. The rapids you can’t chase. The horror you choose not to see. The beauty you want it to be. You pretend it to be. You believe it to be. Finally.
This battlefield is yours now. And soon it’s all you know. The waiting for something that will never happen. The fighting a ghost that haunts your days and nights, owns your life.
The pain. The sleepless nights. Your heart breaking each and every second. This world outside moving on as if it don’t know. And all you can think is that if this ship is sinking she’s the one you want to sink with.
Each spoken sentence dissected, each raising of an eyebrow, faint glow of a stolen smile, even each minute of silence. A prosecution of would have, could have, should have. An autopsy of what ifs that does nothing but leave you shipwrecked.
And so an army of conclusions build on assumptions feed your illusions, make them grow and sprout colorful blossoms. All of this is so beautiful that you can’t tell truth from delusion anymore. And quite possibly you don’t even want to.
You want to be true what isn’t and will never be.
You hear the words but believe in what you’re so sure hides between the lines. You see the regret in those swimming eyes and never even consider she knew and felt only pity for you. You want to mean something and deny how you’re drowning in meaninlessness, build your castle on the quicksands of misplacements.
You try to survive, swim for your life, swallow water, drown a million times. No stars up in the sky to guide you. No land in sight. But you don’t even feel it when all the distance that lies between both of you comes in full view.
You don’t feel the truth slicing through your flesh. Too colorful and sparkling, this delusion, too fluffy and warm, a bubblebath made to deceive you. Because it can’t be that all that was meant nothing, was just a game, not even a flirt.
But nothing lasts forever.
One day you finally see the hundreds of tiny blades between your skin and hers, how they reflect the light of a dawn that breaks the endless night. You see. You see how you misread, misunderstood, misplaced. No hinding from the truth anymore. No matter how much it hurts.
You’re still standing, alone on that battlefield, knee deep in your blood. And before your misty eyes all the words you never said are flimmering like glitter in the air.
You try to grab for some truth with bare hands. You need something that is real, something that is yours, something that will last. Unless you don’t have that you will never be able to let go.
She is in your heart, your life.
You’re not in hers.