The way you were staring at me was so unfair, so outrageous, so disrespectful but so intimate like we've known each other for ages. You made me feel so uncomfortable, frustrated, violated, challenged and you didn't even need to say a word to cause such mess inside me. I confess, I wanted more.
How can I forget that?
How can I simply ignore the fact I don't know when we'll meet again so I could confront you and take these answers from you? How can I just move on like nothing happened?
This mind game you played is turning to an obsession. When I close my eyes I can see you there again and again, I can touch you for once, I can feel your soft skin of your thinny body, I can breathe the same smoke-covered air as you.
I feel constant agony from the mystery you've just put me in. No matter how empty your head was at that night, I will conspirate till we get face to face one more time. I feel sick whenever I get to remember I spent only a couple of hours by your side and you made me lose my appetite because I was busy growing a hunger of getting you out of yourself.
I was busy wearing a suitable disguise so I wouldn't need to speak anything to you. I was busy trying hard not to be judged so I could get back home feeling good for a bit - but I judged myself the second I got there cause I let you fade away without even say a proper goodbye.
Can a place hit someone so hard like this? It was just you in front of a dirty wall, half light above, annoying voices around sounding louder and louder every time and the empty bottles on the table.
I could paint it just like the artists were doing right by our side.
But I'm no Da Vinci, nor Van Gogh. I'm just one confused, embarrassed, complex and quiet girl from the thousands and thousands I suppose you know from life.
I'm just a bad writer with no sense of drama or humour trying to understand what just happened at that night. I'm just an anxious diver trying to get inside your mind as I take you out of mine.
I take all possibilities before conclusions, I create all expectations before experiences, I write every feeling down before I actually get to feel them.
Are you ready to have this "not-so-deep" talk about the bad mixed drink of feelings I just ordered or should we wait till the hangover to end?
[20/01/2020]
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