Paintings of the sun

To know and not to know. I feel like I have been here so many times before. Being stunned once again by the things left undone. Something new in the day, too. Saying goodbye to a friend who really does not know that much about me but who nonetheless has been the closest person to me during the past months. I remeber times when I wondered alone in the dark searching for that something. A hand reached out for me but was pulled away just when I was getting close to it. Hollow memories. Beautiful images. Blurry thoughts. Surroundings of the evening and a life that flows ahead on its own. Sun that is about to go to sleep paints a dark yellow sky that goes perfectly together with the heavy, warm evening of the last weekend of the july. The air of the room gets a smokey tone and all the shapes and figures seem to loose their purpose for a short while. Shades everywhere. I rember the love that was never there but what was coming all the time. Nothingness at the heart of my being has once again directed my thoughts. Togetherness, hope, love. Loneliness, desperation, emptiness.  

I think about the convesations I had at the cafeteria with a person I knew but yet did not knew. Seen her too many times at the corridors. Learned to know her face and her smile. It must have taken a lots of courage of her to come to sit with me. I admire the kindness of her heart. My heart is too afraid. Afraid of being left alone. Afraid of failure. To have and to have not. All the sadness and the miseries of recent times have made me to cherish the peace I have. To be grateful of what there is instead of being sad because of all that there is not. I wish I had the strenght to be a better person. And still, despite everything, I let myself to drown into the solitude and emptiness which still, after all these years, are with me. They will never left me. My precious companions. Alone. Something is still missing.

A sad tune. A reply that will never come. Waiting for something, but not knowing what. Silence. The shape of the moment. Too many days behind already. Too many seasons that have changed without a purpose. A love for each and every one living soul in the world. A love that has gone wasted. Words that, once again, don't make much sense. A cycle of life. Saturdays are the loneliest days of the week. Thinking about the years gone. Four years ago I sat exactly at the same situation. three years ago things were different. I, however, was alone even if I was not alone. To realize that nothing has changed. I close my and go to sleep...after a couple of hours...