Noitcelfer
The Other Side
She’s been avoiding me, as usual. I watch her spin in her dress then lose her mind to what her eyes see but not to what her soul could pierce. I’ve met every side of her. Naked with and without the clothes on. Her soul always so exposed. She wears it on the edge of her skin, on her fingertips. Sometimes she taps them against the cold touch I give, warming me up with an extension of her soul. Sometimes she makes a fist and attempts to put it through me. But I’m not to be defeated. A set of words try to hurt me when no one’s around, and she sets the sound free. It comes from her mouth, not through her eyes. Loud, clear and careless. Sometimes she smiles to me with intent, other times it’s just practice. If she doesn’t love me to pieces, she despises me like her life depended on it. I wish I could show her all there is apart from the skin, so I could get inside her mind and convince her that her skin is no more than a cage. Backward worlds await outside of it.
_____________________________________
This Side
I try the dress I know people like. I think the color’s nice, but hell, I look so hollow. I’m not what I used to be. Maybe some make up will do. I don’t know why I keep trying to drag them into my trap and make them fall for me if I always cower and fuck it up when the chance comes. I touch my lips, then paint them in red. It’s not like I’m kissing anyone tonight, though I keep hoping. Loneliness is here, not to be mended. There’s no use in pretending it’s gone. These days I haven’t been able to create or fall in love. I don’t even know how I’m getting by, because I can’t do anything else, other than loathe myself by the dim light of my bedroom. I can’t even get the make up right.
_____________________________________
The Other Side
I could only catch a few glimpses of her through the night. When she touches her hair, pulls it back, corrects her eye-liner and then her lips, there’s always someone around. She doesn’t talk to me when people watches. But she doesn’t hide the hate. Or the love. It depends. Today I found two sides. She observed me with bright eyes then a clenched jaw. Her friends are not much different than her, but they’re not my problem. They’re full of shit, and she knows it. Always tearing each other apart. She’s only sticking to them until the end of the year. That’s fine by me.
_____________________________________
This Side
I wish I could fight until my knuckles bleed and I’m out of air. It seems like I never have the time. I want to go outside for a smoke, but my friends always push me away when I do. I don’t need to be let alone to realize that I need help. I might need help, but I don’t want it. They know I’m going to leave anytime soon. They know they’re worth shit. Sometimes they look so pretty I wish I could kiss them and never talk to them again, just to merely break their hearts. They seem to love me still. Shut up. I can’t believe these ideas keep coming afloat. I sink them in the depths of my head, but they always find their way up. Not even the loudest sounds of music can keep them in their place.
_____________________________________
The Other Side
It’s useless. Every person I cared for is like this. They blame me for not feeling wanted by others. Like I’m such a curse. I’m just trying to make a living here. Or the best out of it. I like the stories of the paradoxical. Always a puzzle. The key is being able to separate the typical teenage confusion from the real thing. You know what they say, the devil’s on the details. Well, I’m all about the details. Like a photograph. Only fleeting.
_____________________________________
This Side
I’m never what I like. Is it the people that hate what I am, or me? Am I the one keeping them from touching me? What am I, on fire? Freezing? They do throw some looks up and down to me, but they discard me as if they knew I carry a broken heart, as if they knew they’d have to find the missing pieces and put them together. But I’m not that unfixable. Besides, it’s the most of us that are broken-hearted now. Maybe I’m way too nostalgic and my friends are right: I’m a burden.
_____________________________________
The Other Side
No. I’m a burden. She’ll end up drinking, swallowing, jumping or slicing because of me. Or not. What if her soul is what’s damaged? Maybe she gives a fuck about appearence. God help me if that’s it. She’s aware she’s toxic, but she must have learnt to embrace it by now. Toxic isn’t always that bad, but well, who am I to say such things. Maybe I’m the one chasing after her, but that’s not my intention. Fuck this. I’ve got no reason to be acting like a teenager just because I’m looking after one. I’m not supposed to be losing it at this.
_____________________________________
This Side
What pisses me off is that they don’t do anything to keep me around. I know it’ll hurt like hell once I’m gone, but now I’m pointless. Yes, my whole existence is pointless. Maybe I’ve been right all along. I walk out of the dance floor. I hate this music. I hate these people. I hate what I’m made of.
_____________________________________
The Other Side
Yeah, she must.
_____________________________________
This Side
I enter the bathroom. Some girls are laughing over their smuggled bottles, others hold the hair of their friends while they throw up. I lock myself in a free one. Reading the scribblings all around me, I realize these are fitting of a world I don’t belong to. I open the door as I put a cigarrette between my lips and storm out of the bathroom.
_____________________________________
The Other Side
There she is. The real her. The core of the paradox. Rage, recklessness. The one that won’t even look at me.
_____________________________________
This Side
On the way out I feel the looks of my friends over my shoulder. Fuck them. A boy caresses my hair and I just turn around and look at him. He fears what he sees. Well, I don’t blame him. I continue walking, full of rage. A girl looks at my waist and I ignore her, getting to the doorway. There’s a few people here, sharing cigarrettes. I light up and the flame gets consumed by the end of my own smoke. The foggy beach is wild tonight, the waves fight against each other to make it first to the shore. I can barely see through the fog. I notice how the wide glass separating the dance floor from the outside is clouded up to the top. It really is dreadful. Why do I keep coming? I’m angry. I’ve got a hunger for something real.
_____________________________________
The Other Side
Anger! That’s real.
_____________________________________
This Side
I toss the cigarrette on the floor and get back inside, finding the girl that looked at me on her back. I grab her waist but she doesn’t send me away, instead she turns around and grabs mine. The lights waving in her eyes distort the impenetrable black that they are made of. She pushes me deeper into the dance floor and I don’t pull away. She’s got such beautiful curls. I roll my finger on one of them and then look down at her lips, pressing mine against them. They’re warm and taste like melon vodka. Then I let go of her and look into her eyes, that now look foolish and confused. Defeated. “That fragile are we?” I whisper in her ear. She should think I’m crazy, but she doesn’t. I keep walking and find the boy that approached me. I touch his shoulder and he turns around, still fearful. “It’s okay.” I say. “Come dance.” He’s now out of place. But he’s got it easy now: I’m all his. Or that’s what he thinks. He approaches me again, going for the kiss. Then I look away, and his kiss just vanishes in the air. I can’t help but grin as I walk away. I break in the bathroom again. The girls with the bottles keep laughing, now on the floor. “Excuse me.” I pick two of the bottles up. Vodka and white wine. I drink of one, then of the other.
_____________________________________
The Other Side
Wanted something real? There you go. I knew it. She takes her high-heels off and grabs a handful of water from the sink, throwing it on her face. “What is wrong with you?” One of her friends tells her when they find her. A few laugh, others show concern. “No idea.” She said. She looks at me, and I look into her. Her make-up is now a mess, but that is no reason for concern. “Fucking borderline.” Other of her friends says under her breath. But she hears her. “Yeah. You should try it sometime.”
_____________________________________
This Side
My friends keep talking. Why would you this, why did you that. Heels on hand, I leave for good. I find myself outside again. I jump over the fence into the beach. The sand’s cold and wet. I search for the moon, but can’t seem to find a trace of her. I’m not drowning now. I run to the ocean and find that the shore is even colder. I allow my feet to slowly sink as I drop the heels and get another cigarrette from my purse so I can drop it too. I’m alone, so what? If I ever needed someone, that is myself. I was never understood. I just like pretending I was. To hell with it. I get into the water. Who would say summer felt this cold?
_____________________________________
The Other Side
Spinning again. She’s beautiful. The water goes to her knees, the ending of her dress gets wet. She isn’t insecure. I wish she would look at me now. She’s alone, so I might be delighted when addressed. “I watched you grow.” I wish I could say.
_____________________________________
This Side
So, this is me. I’m powerful and powerless. We all are. I blow the smoke out. This won’t matter overtime. I’ll regret wanting to die. I can make them trip and trample down if I want to, because I’ve got what it takes, and I’m not weak. Not at all. I am all.
_____________________________________
The Other Side
And the paradox becomes one truth. Two sides collide, proving me right.
_____________________________________
This Side
That’s me. I look at myself in the bright ocean. This shape I see is all I am. A shape that will make it through.
_____________________________________
The Other Side
I want to show you the backward worlds that hide within it all.
_____________________________________
This Side
There’s more to see. There has. There must. I won’t leave as long as there’s something to discover. Even if I’m crazy. Even if I’m sane.
_____________________________________
The Other Side
Ah. Aren’t souls a beautiful thing? So ancient. Travelling through worlds to find a simple body to mold and grow into, perpetually young.
_____________________________________
This Side
It’s just a reflection.
_____________________________________
The Other Side
That’s right. I’m nothing else.
_____________________________________
This Side
And I’m just a soul.
_____________________________________
This Side and The Other
This is a soul. An electric soul.
august, 27th (2017)
