An Encounter between Past and Present

“Look at the smoke”, said I and kept saying it until I could say it no more. No one looked at me as I stumbled on my way to the restroom. My friends were too lost in the music to notice me leave and I was too drunk to make’em notice me leave.

Fortunately the lights weren’t too bright when I entered the restroom; saved me from the sudden pinch I usually feel in my head. The room looked empty to me as I sat on the floor, right in front of the big mirrors on the wall. I felt an urge to puke and thought I was gonna pass out until, surprisingly, this little girl of about 10 years old ran before me into this dark corner of the room. Curious, I followed her into the corner where she tried to reach the sink and wash her hands covered with mud.

Appalled by the possibility of how they could let a little girl enter a night club, I convinced myself that I was hallucinating. So I went back to the lightened part of the room and sitting on the floor once again, anxiety filled me up; I realized I was sweating and wanting so desperately to scream, I couldn’t open my mouth. Maybe I was asleep and all this was a dream, but why would I need this to be a dream? What was so bad about this situation? No, there was no sunshine, no birds singing but only darkness, and this darkness seemed so usual and familiar that it didn’t scare me. There was nothing negative about it.

Perhaps it was the possibility of the unusual presence of the little girl that bothered me. Hoping my initial doubts of hallucinating to be confirmed, I went to the same dark corner once again only to see her standing frozen like a rock, shivering, wanting so desperately to scream but I guess she couldn’t open her mouth, while a strange dirty huge man did whatever he wanted to do with her, using her however it suited his evil purpose.

Not being able to believe what I saw, I puked, ran out of that cursed place and dropped myself on the floor in front of the mirrors looking at myself in one of’em. I couldn’t even tolerate the stare of my own reflection at myself, nevertheless I kept staring back at it until I finally saw her, the poor little girl replace my reflection, and that is when I recognized her in myself.

It all comes down to Sacrificing

1 My insides were empty before the sacrifice.

They swell with honor and a sense of spiritual fullness now that I’ve given a person what he really needed. The sincerity of his need and my empathy of it provided me the strength to sacrifice mine.  And it did me no harm, it only made me stronger to move forward, which would have been very difficult otherwise.

2 To give up is not always cowardice, it is something I can’t figure out yet but it’s definitely not cowardice. After all, what are you supposed to do if you are forced into doing something out of necessity? And you believe them when they say it is for your own good, and when you know that even if it does turn out as good as they said, it will only be superficial.

I write my name on the shore, the sea wave comes and washes it away. I write my name on the shore again, the sea wave washes it away again. I try to emphasize myself but they won’t let me, just like the sea. Obtaining delight out of vexing people like me is their hobby but I’m not vexed.

I know you are not like them, my dear, and that’s why I’m speaking this out to you. But I can’t go on like this, so I give up and it’s not out of cowardice. Perhaps it is a sacrifice; perhaps he needs it more than I need my life. So I’m giving up not for him but to save myself, I can only hope he finds solace in that.

3 I can see the truth so I will paint you in my words. I’m sure no one has had the chance to see your sacrifice but me and that you’ve served your purpose for someone else, but now that I’ve seen the divine truth in you, I’ll serve my purpose for you. I’m not giving up anything writing you down in my words, I’m only making you eternal as you continue to make me grow.

You, the one who sacrificed to move on, and you, the one who sacrificed to benefit someone else, you will live on forever in Art, Art which is mine and which I’m expecting not everyone will be able to understand this time.