Chapter Text
There was a time when the sound of a departing train didn’t torment me, respectfully remaining far beyond the edge, where it starts to ache with longing for something I didn’t even know a name. A time the stomp of running people was just a pesky chord lost in the symphony of the endless routine. A time when I caught myself inspired by thousands of people’s backs, one after another, dissolving into the shadows of this train. With the thrill of the final voyage, the hand in my pocket hardly squeezed a one-way pass.
Every single time in the heat of my weakness, broken by a heavy load of flaws, I rushed to the car with the hope of putting an end to my long, drawn out novel. And every time the well known conductor with a sickly pliant smile told me: “There’s no place for you, sir.” Every single time, I returned, bowing my head with foolish obedience.
All the same. The sound of a departing train, the stomp of running people, the backs in the shadows, the ticket in my pocket…
Every single time.
Day by day.
Year by year.
This scene, this platform, this train, this ticket - everything became an irritating rhyme with imitation of a beat. And here was me, absurdly playing a “respectable young man” role; I was always stuck between the dryness of the conductor’s words and my place as a freaky tune in the cacophony of life. Fucking pathetic, indeed.
Time passed by, and I embraced the rules. I didn’t try to complement a melody with a missing sound of myself anymore. I stopped trying to catch up with the people I cherished the most. Their steps disappeared as a wave of my decisions washed away all their marks, the crescendo of crashing water muffled any trace of their existence, and my heartbeat became the only lighthouse in the storm of my despair. Like after a trance, I woke up with my hand outstretched, broken by tremble, and eager to reach unknown horizons. All alone on the gloomy beach with the crashed ship of my predictions.
Suddenly it was a flashing moment, a bitter mirage, as I saw an island. I was utterly lost in it, forgetting the stumped ticket in my pocket and the ship at the shore.
I knew the role of a spectator wasn’t my place. Never was. I knew all along, but I thought my boat was on the right course. The crumpled one-way ticket became my anchor, but I was so desperately gazing into this secluded land that the hole in the ship went unnoticed.
Yes, there was a time I thought my map showed me a proper way to escape this storm. A time an island appeared straight ahead, only for an instance to reveal itself as a cruel fata morgana.
It was a time I didn’t think my actions would lead to tragedy.
There was a time I started to starve myself with woeful faith that the enormous hunger I felt was a sign of my existence. It was a time a gloomy shadow reflected in the mirror in front of me, and a vicious sea of shades behind my back swallowed the erratic fact that I "am" "me". A time “I” could stay deaf to the roars of the caged animals within “my” skin.
But since “I” was kicked into the forgotten island, “I” was stolen from “me”. Agonizing slowly, “I” lost its presence beneath this transparent shell, and the brutal race between “me” and the wild beasts began.
Every single time, the hunger grew more and more, before it became a mountain “I” couldn’t conquer. Every single time, “I” was left with more obsessions to fight like a damn hunter lost in track in the wild forests. Every single time, the scars on “my” body become a memento of my uncontrollable passion for starvation.
Every single time.
Day by Day.
Year by year.
Exhausted, empty vessel tried to contemplate its longing for the colossal hunger by making amends with animals in its head.
The wild zoo of the dreadful decisions leads to false salvation, bringing a short-lived feeling of fullness. They bit “my” hands, and “my” legs kept their teeth marks. “My” skin mutated into the blank paper, and their marks were an epitaph that “I” wasn't the only one starving - they were as well.
A flashing moment and the island was lit with someone's light. It was almost painfully bright, but the wilderness held its breath, as any other air movement can destroy it.
“I” knew the role of a chaser wasn't “my” place. Never was. “I” knew all along, and “I” let it fill the passing days. Soon, “I” started to think that the hunger “I” felt was finally fulfilled. “My” past became my trophy, like a scarecrow. In this vast land, “I” was blinded by the light; thus, the new scars on “my” skin went unnoticed.
Yes, there was a time “I” was convinced my animals returned to their cages in the darkness of my loneliness. There was a time, I thought, that my obscured soul reclaimed its reign, filled my lungs with new breath.
It was a time I didn't think that my body can't swallow all the consequences of my twisted hunger.
There was a time I wondered…
Did I lose you, or did I finally find myself?
