sombre

letter to myself

Skit i vad alla andra tycker, sök inte bekräftelse från dem, de kommer aldrig att se saker som du ser dem. Det finns sju miljarder människor i världen och det finns minst fjorton miljarder sätt att se på saken. 

   Konsumera all konst du kommer över. Ta in allt, inhalera, sug i dig det som om det vore droger. Så länge du inte bryr dig om vad andra tycker, behöver du inte mer än kläder på kroppen och ditt intellekt. Vårda ditt intellekt lika omsorgsfullt som du vårdar dina naglar eller din hy. Ge det den tid det behöver. Glöm inte bort varför du lever. Du lever för att sätta ett fotspår efter dig. Du väljer själv vilken färg det ska ha, vad det ska säga till framtiden. Glöm inte bort din monolog till framtiden. Den är viktigare än allt annat på jorden.

   Omge dig av vackra saker, saker som är vackra för dig. Det finns ingen logik i att samla skatter som bara är vacker för någon annan. Estetik är viktigt. Harmoni är viktigt. Nytt, ljust, kallt, vitalt. Känslan av att vara så vid liv som du någonsin kommer vara, varje dag.

   Skratta inte för att de vill att du ska skratta, skratta för att du själv vill det. Gråt när det gör ont, skrik när du behöver det. Ingen kan säga åt dig hur du ska leva, för de har ingen aning. Livet är inte samma sak två gånger. Det finns sju miljarder liv på jorden och minst fjorton miljarder sätt att se på dem.

departure

“Bye guys! I’ll miss you!” she said as she waved and looked at them with a watery smile. Evelyne’s bottom lip trembled as she turned her back at them and continued out the door and out to the car where David was putting her bags in the trunk. He waved back at the three boys in the door too, but with a stiff smile in his face, naturally, seeing as he was just driving Evelyne to the airport, he would see his sons again in an hour or so. 

   The ride to LAX was painfully quiet. Every now and then David muttered a few curse words to various reckless drivers and shot lightning fast glances at her to see if she felt better or worse by it. He face was like marble, her eyes watery. “I’ll um…” David began with a distracted voice as he switched files on the busy road. “I will not be working with the new firm until May. I’m pretty much free until then. We can get together sometimes this spring can’t we?” He glanced at her again, now held his gaze a little bit longer before checking the road. He sat slightly leaned towards her as an invite for her to put her head on his shoulder, one hand on the wheel, the other stretched out between them, another invite of comfort. Her eyes were fixed on the road as if the thought of him, the touch, or one look at him would make her snap in half. “That would be nice” she said, awfully civil. Her voice was thick and hoarse, as it always was when she cried. “I mean, yeah, I’d love that, I want to see you as much as possible before you’ll be too busy for anyone.” she added and David could hear that she had widened her mouth in a smile, although she sounded as if she thought the little joke she had just made was not even remotely funny. Silence fell over them again. Every now and then it was broken by her heavy sniffles, her hands constantly moving towards her face to dry her cheeks. 

   The rest of the ride was held in a heavy, almost touchable silence. They went in through the gates, all the way up to the gateway in total silence. David started to think that she was not even sad that she was leaving anymore, he rather felt it as if she was angry with him, her perfectly shaped eyebrows were drawn closer and closer towards each other. Just as he thought he would ask her about it she grabbed his hand. A tight and warm grip, so tight it almost hurt, but she said nothing. After a few seconds she held on to his whole arm, as if the hand was not enough. When they arrived just outside the gateway, she glanced at her wristwatch and said, with a voice even hoarser than it had been in the car; “fifteen minutes.” She turned towards him, still holding on to him as if she was afraid that he would slip away like smoke if she would let go. She looked up at him with bloodshot eyes, dark circles under them. Even looking like as if she had just spent the night on the North Pole or was having a bad allergic reaction, she was beautiful. Her forest green eyes seemed even more green contrasted to all the pink around them, the freckles on her red nose was a lot more prominent after such a long time in LA. Her vivid red hair was put up in a big bun on the top of her head. She took a deep, sharp breath and said; “I don’t really want to leave you. I just…” her eyes wandered down somewhere in her own height, right onto David’s chest. “Los Angeles is not a good place for me.” she added, her bottom lip trembling again. David took her face in his hands and made her look at him. A tear fell into his hand as she blinked. “Please don’t cry my darling” he said and his deep teal eyes searched over her face and registered her features. “I know it’s silly, this is not goodbye forever!” she said, almost in one really long word and her breath shuddered. She smiled a twitchy but genuine smile, teeth showing now. A tear fell into the corner of her mouth. He looked at it intently, kissed it. His hands fell down onto her neck, thumbs resting on her jawline as if supporting her head so her gaze would not drop again. She closed her eyes and kissed him back. Her grip on his arms loosened and she crept closer to him, putting her arms around him inside his jacket. He moved his face an inch to the side and kissed the whole of her mouth, felt her salty, trembling lips. They stood there for a while, not moving, not even kissing, just pressing their lips against each other. 

   A rustling speaker was making its little signature tune and began telling that the flight to New York was arriving and passengers should get ready to get on board. Evelyne winced and broke the connection with their lips. She looked into his eyes with a painful wrinkle between her eyebrows. “I love you.” she said “Whatever this is what we’re doing, I love it and I love you and I don’t want it to end.” Her words was like warm explosions in his chest. It was true. It was a weird relationship, illegitimate, since she was so young, and he so old. They were never ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ either, just two people caring immensely for each other. “I love you too.” he croaked, now tearing up. “I love you too and I don’t want this to end either.” His words was just echoes of hers. Empty echoes to that. She was the writer. She was the one with the warm word explosions. He was just the actor, reenacting what she said. With this thought David laughed a sharp, short laugh, almost like a hiccup. She smiled, she wasn’t crying anymore. She slowly let go of his waist, put a hand on his stomach, took a step back and stared at him for a bit, as if she wanted to register the look of him. She flung her arms around him in a tight hug, took a deep breath, smelling his hair and turned around and left. About ten meters down the gateway she turned around to look at him, with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

the accident - part one; James

He is perfectly imperfect. You look at him and think that this man can not contain any flaw, hiccup or mishap. James Lennox is flawless, he is one of the most attractive men I know. But then you look again. His eyebrows are a funny shape, like they have once been carefully plucked and the hairs have not entirely grown back again. He has got a stubble which he did not have the last time I saw him. Nor any other time I have seen him actually, this is the first time I have seen it. A brown black stubble. It does not suit him, it is the kind of stubble that makes you think of bad breath. 

   He looks broken. I know he is but he actually looks entirely broken. I take a breath and try to come up with a good way to start this conversation, try to win some time by taking in more air through my open mouth. 

“I heard about what’s happened” I say, fast, low voiced and mumbling as if I do not really want him to hear me. I do not want to make things worse. But just as I have thought that I know that it will not make a difference, it is out of my hands now. He makes a sudden weird noise, like some kind of animal in shock. It is an ugly sound. Ugly and heart piercing. He covers his face with his hands and I can see his stomach writhing as it purses into heavy sobs. He lowers his hands so that I can see his eyes, bloodshot. They look at me, but he is not there. He looks like a deer who is begging for mercy, like he has been shot and is asking for another bullet, the one that will kill him. He inhales sharply and I can hear the snot being dragged from his hands back into his nose. I do not dare to touch him, I am afraid I will make things worse. Even if I do consider myself a compassionate person, there is nothing more uncomfortable situation than the one where I need to comfort someone, I just do not know how to act. I am in an uncomfortable position and I want to move so I can stretch my back, but I am afraid to. He looks like he are going to make a movement, break in two, explode. Any second now. 

   ”Tell me what to do.” I think to myself when he does not move. He probably has not showered in days, maybe not even since it happened. His black hair lies in sharp, greasy waves in the back of his head. He smells of something artificial, like newspapers or fleece fabric. Again, he snorts and now the snot is so far back in his nose that he has to swallow it, he makes a gulping sound and exhales. 

“I saw him.” He says, the sound from his face, that is now hanging far down almost between his knees, is wet. A tear falls from it and lands on the dirty, ugly patterned marble floor. 

“I saw him do it.” He raises his head and looks straight into my eyes. They are beautiful, his eyes. Black, big and wet. His whole face is wet. My gaze swipes across his face, taking it all in. There is a tiny scar on the outline of his bottom lip. Child accident, I suppose. Or maybe a pub fight. His pallid face used to be so beautiful, now it is just a crinkled, wet, pink mess. As I think that, he continues;

“…but I was too far away to stop him.” The last word trails away in a whimper, he wrinkles his chin as he once more burst into tears, his mouth falls open and a bubble of saliva is forming between his lips. Without thinking I throw my arms out and he falls into them, presses his wet cheek against my chest. I feel it soaking my shirt, fast. His embrace makes a small puff of air rise to my face. He smells awful, like salt, sweat and dirt. But I do not care. I try to breathe calmly, my comfort is in my body language, I have never been good with words. I can feel that he is listening to my heartbeat. He is pressing his ear against my chest, he seems to forget why he was crying, the way children do. I do not want to remind him so I stay still, still uncomfortably positioned.