Loved, loved it.
Sometimes, life disappoints you so much that you wish that you could destroy everything that it has given you. Sometimes, people look at you as if they know what you are hiding, as if they have gotten hold of some creepy little secret of yours. A secret that has never even existed before and you wish that you could tear those small triumphant, accusing eyes of theirs with your claws and smile up to them. But your filthy brain has control over your hands and it forces them to stop, and you wish that you’d never have had the brain, only the heart. You want to stay in that moment forever, but now that you want to, life deliberately snatches it away from you. And for those same people, you feel a sense of unnerving love, and the same life, you want to embrace it with all your love and a wide grin pasted on your face.
But now that you want to, life doesn’t. Life is somewhat moody. It does what it feels like doing. It does not let you interfere in its sole secret plans, and when you try to do it persuasively, it gives you a deep scar, a wound that you are unable to fill for lifetime. Life stings you like a bee, it bites you like a snake, it sucks blood out of you like a vampire and then suddenly, it starts to fill colors in your life like an artist, it starts to make you smile and giggle with some old buddies. But once again, you realize that life is an expert illusionist which makes you climb the stairs of unhappiness, of success and then removes the ladder from beneath and like a thousand times, you fall on your back, totally helpless, and shattered into pieces.
And the cycle continues.
As I sit here, thinking about the past few days, the days which brought me nothing but extreme pain and misery, I tear your letters. Not the last one, the only one that was true from all of them, but the very first ones after we met, the ones that you used to put in my notebooks.
You’d be wondering why I don’t tear the last one, even one that has caused me this pain, this misery. But you don’t realize this: it didn’t just bring me pain, it filled me with a n everlasting sense of vengeance, and that is what I’ll do.
I am back. I am not one of those who cry their whole lives if they find dogs like you. I am not one of those who accept defeat so easily. And that is something you already know. I think you should be on your guard. It’s time for me to come back.
And yes, the last thing that I didn’t thank you for is this: for making me realize how big a dog you were.
Suddenly my eyes are opened and everything comes into focus. I’m in a hospital room with walls white washed around me. After some time, I realize that not only the walls but the nurses and the furniture is also white washed. A nurse stands behind me and passes me a smile, a triumphant one. I look at her with deep concern. She is in her late twenties, her face is wrinkled and show signs of long term stress, her eyes are small and show a twinkle of happiness. At the same instant, a young man enters and closely examines me.
“It’s nice to see you awake after such a long time,” he smiles and continues, “We’ve done it! We’ve cured the first patient of dementia!” He looks at the nurse and leaves, the nurse following him. I know what dementia is, yet I do not know who I myself am. It is too perplexing for me to understand………………………………….
In the end, it’s not going to matter how many breaths you took, but how many moments took your breath away