I remember the time I wanted to die…, actually, I never
forgot. A strange shadow began circling me, something I’ve never encountered
before, which left me an acute sensation of familiarity. Like a stranger you’ve
known since forever.
When I decided to die, the air started having a different scent.
The people turned into cardboard silhouettes, interacting mechanically, abruptly,
making no sense. Yes, this was the first thing I’ve noticed in the world that
was preparing to out me. The nonsense that was surrounding me. I became
withdrawn, slowly detaching my being from the pores of my skin, from the
fingerprints, from the wrists and joints. My body became a coat that was just
too large and I was beginning to stumble. I was so sylphid, so far away locked
in the dark, away from the spectacle which was the existence. Any type of
existence. I felt like I was having my bags packed for me and was expected to
embark on a new journey. I was actually curious about what was about to happen.
When will I depart? Who will keep me company? What wonders will I see during my
journey? What will the destination be? With each morning, I was becoming more
impatient to say goodbye.
When I began my goodbye ritual, I touched the cardboard people.
They didn’t touch anything in me. My mother kept telling me about her
accounting issues, Ioana was getting ready to say “I do” to her fiancée, Ilinca
was planning to move in another town. My boyfriend was joking around, making me
smile, while I was thinking what I should leave him to keep him as happy as he
was at the time. I also thought how
angry I would be with all of them if they would start crying and feeling they
could have stopped me from picking a destination that no map would have been
able to show.
Along came the night when I had to say goodbye to myself. I
got fixated on a photo of mine and watched it until I could no longer tell who
that was. It ached to let her go. It
ached with every blink. I cried like at a real funeral. And I felt that strange and cold shadow circling
me and wrapping me like in a cocoon, tighter and deeper into the darkness. I
looked at the objects in my room like for the last time – the novels written by
Pascal Bruckner, among which my favorite, “Lunes de Fiel”, signed by the author
himself; the Harrods teddy that my boyfriend surprised me with a year ago,
which kept an airport smell long after; the first photo in over a decade that I
had taken with my father when I stepped in Queens, New York, for the first time;
the soft, safe blanket that was covering my legs; my hands that I was surprised
to see I was caressing. They were so dear to me! I took the blanket off my
legs. Never before had I realized how much weight I had lost. The time that I’ve
wasted criticizing them that they weren’t slim, or long enough! It didn’t
matter anymore, I was going to lose them anyway. I hugged my knees and my hair
slipped over them. It smelled like November – of ice and plants. How many
breaths until I won’t get to smell it anymore? I wished I could have fallen
asleep with my hair stuck to my nose, despite the fact that other times it
drove me crazy for not staying as curled as I wanted to.
I fell asleep missing me acutely. When I woke up, I hadn’t
gone yet. But I noticed a fear sneaking up on me: what date does my outing ticket
have? Will I have enough time to enjoy me? It started raining heavily and the
street looked bombarded by umbrellas, running around crazily. “I have an
umbrella, too!” I recall thinking. I took it and ran outside with it. It got
stuck for a few seconds and the wind lashed out. I became soaking wet in no
time. What an unpleasant feeling! How aggressive my inner reaction was! How
alive! And how overwhelming my revelation was! I was savagely, violently alive!
Comments
Post a Comment