Day. Last

Early. Alarm. No need. Me. Happy! Shower. Brush. Get dressed. Eat. Coffee. Run. Cold. Bus. Red Line. Deak. Switch. Blue Line. Ujpest. Wait. Happy. Anxious. Mazda. Old. Green. Dirty. Purple. She. Beautiful. Kiss. Short. Speedy. Nervous. Szia. Me. Happy. Tickets. Two. To Paszmany. Stairs. Platform. Wait. She. Moody. Agitated. Me. Smiling. Train. Seats. Face to face. Read. She. On iPhone. Me. A book. Highlighting. She. Why? Me. To find. She. Ruins. Book. Me. Not book. Scholar book. Research. No ruin. Destination. Big yard. Administration. Papers. Teacher. Missing. Library. Computers. Wallpapers. Trianon. Red map. Great Hungary. Me. Laughing. She. Defensive. Exam. Me. Still happy. Hallway. Students. She. More anxious. Repeating. Preparing. Memorizing. Me. Looking. At her. Encouraging. Sure. Hour. Arrives. Examination. Start. She. Agitated. Stressed. Concerned. Me. Forgotten. Abandoned. Patient. She. Goes in. Me. Wait. This time. Worried. Listening. At the door. She. Talks. Answers. Questions. Hungarian. Incomprehensible. One hour. Passes. She. Comes out. Upset. Angry. Me. Concerned. Exam? Passed. Grade? Not good. Teacher? Furious. Offensive. Rude. She. Pissed. Crying. Upset. Down. Me. Comforting. She. Restless. Not listening. Not accepting. Me. Useless. Cafeteria. Food. Not much. Cold. Good. She. On the phone. Mother. Sister. Whoever. Me. Trying. To get through. Still to comfort. Pointless. She. Rejecting. Tickets. Station. Train. Crowded. Talking. Landlord. Issues. Me. Expecting. Support. She. Supporting. Her friends. Destination. Dorm? Concert? Discussion. Me. Coffee. Talk. She. Ok. Car. Drive. Coffee place. Parking lot. She. iPhone. Facebooking. Writing. Answering. Not paying attention. We. Enter. Sit down. Order. Me. Trying to talk. She. Still texting. Annoyed. We. Argue. A lot. About us. About me. Me. Upset. Annoyed. She. The same. Coffee. Done. We. Leave. Car. Me. Stop texting. God! She. Refusing. She. Driving. Lost. Use GPS. Find shortcut. She. Happy. About it. Me. Looking. Not knowing. What's coming. She. Parks. On side of the road. Me. Why here? Why not there? She. Not staying. Me. Still. Not understanding. We. Get out. Me. Walking. Towards dorm. She. Calls me. Back. Standing. Next to the car. She. Hugs. Me. Crying. Me. Starting to get it. She. Breaking up. With me. Hugs. Hard. Crying. Harder. Whispering. Me. Hearing. Cracks. Inside. Melted. Heart. Starting. To freeze. Back. Me. Trying. To reason. To talk. To comprehend. No use. She. Saying. Bye! Cold. Very cold. Freezing. Me. Concerned. Don't catch. A cold. Go. She. Getting back. In the car. Engine. Starts. She. Signals. Drive. Turns left. Disappears. Me. Empty. Senseless. Cold. Going. Slow. To the dorm. Memorize. Name. Of street. Cross. Go in. Warm. Elevator. Second. Floor. Room. Dark. Gifts. On table. Growing. Anger. Towards. Me. Sit down. No words. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Mea culpa. Silence. Finish. Packing. Shower. Brush. Mute. End. 

The man who chased ghosts

After she was gone, he kept on seeing her, kept on seeing her ghost.

Soon he realized he was the only one able to do it and everyone around thought he was losing his mind.  They were so convincing at times that even him feared they were right. But she kept on coming back. He was seeing her purple winter jacket on the street just to soon realize the city was filled with them. He was  recognizing her curly hair, while she was standing on the corner of the street, but when she was turning towards him, he could see it was not her. He even woke up one day feeling her sweet smell in the room. He waited 10 minutes for her to come out from somewhere, to make herself visible, just to realize that there was no one. Her ghost was everywhere. In photos. In desires. In dreams. And whenever he felt she nearly faded away, she was sending a sign from the other side, just to remind him her ghost was still around...

Friends, and not only, abandoned him. He seemed lost to them. Didn't understand his obsession for someone long gone. His inability to let go and move on. His answers or explanations. And all these cost him dearly. Ghosts don't just let go, he argued for a while, they are everywhere while nowhere. Sometimes they feel real. Sometimes they are real. It just takes additional senses to perceive them. And ghosts, it's common knowledge, stick around when there's unfinished business, although he was not sure whether the unfinished business wasn't actually his. That night, that last night, when she left and turned into shadow, things were done, clearly done, but definitely unfinished. For him at least. For him, willingly or not, she was still out  there.

But what he didn't realize was that while he was uselessly chasing her ghost, he was turning into one himself...

Oslo 31. August (spoiler alert!)

You pretty much know from the beginning what follows. This guy is on a death race. His day starts with meaningless sex, but a primary human function. He tries to drown himself in a river. No success. Drowning is painful and life instincts are strong even in those who don't feel like living anymore.

This is the day of his last attempt: either to live, or to die. He doesn't get his hopes high, he is scared of what he has to face, but he's willing to do it. Has to. He visits his best friend and his family. Apologizes. For the past. For the future. They catch up on others: past friends, past girlfriend. Maybe they should reconnect. Girl loved him. He's skeptic. His smile is bitter. Confesses lack of trust. Confesses lack of passion.  Confesses his wish to die. Not only his wish but his actual plan. Friend doesn't know what to say. Compassion and encouraging words are not really the key. Quotes from books neither, as a proof that wisdom and true lessons on how to live cannot be found in written / printed pages. Our guy learns that his friend's happiness is just an illusion. With a job, family and kids his friend feels as trapped and unsatisfied as he does. Just that he somehow got used to it. Got used to live like that. Building your own family doesn't seem like the answer anymore. No reason for envy, all words spoken, they part.

Next try is the job. A job he feels not suited for but all others think he'll do great. And the start of the interview is promising. He has input. Ideas. His brain works. Past talent is appreciated. But what about the gaps? How do you explain to someone that you screwed up? That you somehow took the wrong turn and now you're trying to get back. And you need some help. Or some support. The man in front of him demands honesty and full disclosure, but as usually he cannot deal with the truth. The guy realizes the job will not be his salvation. Not now, not ever. He leaves. Another door closes behind him, for good.

Here for the first time he takes his best friend's advice and calls his girlfriend, interacting with her answering machine.

The door of his sister is already closed and won't even open. The quickest result and probably the hardest shock. He cannot connect or relate to his own kin. His parents fled the country, enjoying their remaining years, his sister won't get in touch. She knows him. Doesn't trust him. Expects him to screw up again. She just sends him the keys of his last act.

The coffee-shop scene is probably one of the best. Perfect spot for observing the others without interfering. He gets to see if they are really alike. Talking about their issues, more or less meaningful. Complaining. Pretending. Dreaming. Wishing. Wasting time. People seem to be pretty much the same, and that is soothing. He decides to give himself a break, enjoy for a while simple pleasures of life: listening to children rehearsing classical music for a concert, going to a park full of people, lying on the grass, watching the sky, doing nothing, just remembering his parents. How they raised and educated him, how they screwed him up. So maybe salvation could come from embracing life and reality as it is. From this day dream, he wakes up alone.

The party is the starting point of his downfall. Old faces that remind him of the old self. People who celebrate the birthday of a girl whose birthday was a day later. Friends that don't really know each other enough to remember one simple date. Relationships long enough to last, but unaccomplished. It's all down the drain and this guy finds nothing to hang on to. Nothing! Old ways seem better so he starts drinking. To forget. To get numb. A girl with a beautiful smile sends him a direct message that she's available. Tells him where to find her later. Why not? Maybe now he will be able to feel something. Little pleasures of life.

Girlfriend still doesn't answer.

He pretty much expects nothing, so he must be prepared. Goes on with the plan. Buys the stuff that will provide him with a last, heart-blowing moment of happiness. That will bring relief with no pain. Then he goes to the bar. Finds the girl. Goes to a rave party. Loses himself in the crowd. Makes up with a total stranger. Still feeling nothing. Talking and kissing with the girl. Foreseeing her future: nights of meaningless sex and hook ups, many nights, like this one, that she won't even remember later. Just life as it is. "Having fun". Nothing of real importance. Rides a bike with the girl. Enjoys the cold breeze. Enjoys revealing small secrets of the town. Watches her swim naked while the sun rises. And as he watches it, enjoying the caresses of warm light, he realizes he is out of options. That his detachment is now complete. He needs to get home for the last time.

House is empty. All things packed. A sign that everyone is moving on. With or without him. Calls his girlfriend for the third time. This time to tell her the truth: it's good bye. And he's sorry. His actions caused and will cause everyone a lot of pain. To him as well, but he's taking a ticket out. The piano is just a memory and playing it is probably a recollection of his childhood when all seemed possible in that big house. Then the preparations. Relevant is the pooling of the curtains. Shading the room. Keeping the outside world outside. Isolating the exterior for the interior is already isolated. With the image also the sound disappears. The needle goes in. The guy goes down.

As life pours out of him we follow his steps back through that day. The pool over which the sun was rising is empty. The water is still. No smiley girls swims in it. The club is closed. The party house is asleep. The restaurant is deserted. So are the streets of Oslo. So is the forest or the room where he woke up in the morning.

The story is two times circular. It starts and ends with his suicide attempts. It starts and ends in the same place, with the same view. With or without him, the world goes on, remaining the same...

What do you say?

What do you say when you're out of words? Or when there's no one there to listen? Or when you reached that point where you're so empty, or you're living in a void, that you just don't feel anything, not even the need to speak?

What do you say when there's nothing else to say? When that awkward silence steps in? When you just don't see the point? When you know you're just repeating yourself? When you know there was no other way?

What do you say when everything's routine? Uninteresting, meaningless? When you know for sure how your 24 hours, your 7 days, your 12 months, your year will look like? When you don't have anywhere to go? Or when you don't want to go anywhere?

When you know your precisely your morning steps: wake up, same hour, no need for alarm anymore, it's in your system, make the bed, go to bathroom, start brushing teeth, go to kitchen, start boiling water for coffee, prepare the mug, keep on brushing, prepare the sandwiches, take out the milk, water boiled, coffee ready, reach for cereals, finish brushing, return to bathroom, spit, wash your face, pee, flush, wash your hands, on the way to the kitchen start laptop, bring breakfast, start some tv show, eat sandwiches, eat cereals, drink coffee, wash dishes while you wait for the bowel movement, go to toilet, get dressed, get to the car, 6 min, never more, two stop lights, maybe 3 when too much traffic, get to work...

When there's no mess around and when mess around brings up even more mess in the brain, pisses you off, laziness, carelessness, not giving a fuck, what do you say then? What do you say in those moments when you're just happy they're gone? Or in those when you wish you could see them one more time, at least to remember exactly how they looked like, how they were like?

When messed up people, people like you, or worse, or unable to deal with their own reality, running away from responsibilities, tell you to get a grip of yourself, to move on, to be happy/er, to say nice or better words, and you can't find them cause there's no such source inside yourself, what do you say?

When you know there is no real receiver in front of you, what do you say? Why would you say? When you're in a relationship and you feel estranged, when you see the other doesn't really talk, or doesn't really listen, and you know, you KNOW, your relationship is dead already, what can you say?

When you know that nothing matters, neither your job, neither your degrees, neither your principles, your education, nor whatever else you might think is of value, what can you say? When you know you don't matter, neither for your, nor for anybody else, and especially not for those you wish you would?

When you're unable to mime the existence of the others, although you might get their reasons, or even remember how it was to be like them, when all you have from your past are a few photos, some shinny stuff, a t-shirt you decided not to wash, a book, a note, a letter, an sms, or simply a memory, or a regret, what can you say?

When you know the past is gone and will never come back, when you don't know whether there is really a future, but just a projection of your own desires, and the present is just a postponement, a delay, a deep silence, or a terrible inner noise, why, why on Earth would you say anything?

Just stay still, close your eyes, and keep quiet! Keep quiet for good. It will all be over anytime now...

One more day

If I would have one more day with you, what would I do?

Would I take you to a beach, sit you on the sand, and hold you through the sun rise, swim you to exhaustion, gather grains of sand off your wet skin, kiss the salty water off you till my lips dry and start to hurt, read you from a book, while you turn darker, make love to you while the sun goes back down, wave good-bye to you while the moon emerges and you turn to shadow?

Would I take you to a gallery, place you in a painting or a mural, one of those post modern, incomprehensible ones, come back every day, sit down in front of your wall, and try to decipher you and where the lines used to be?

Would I take you home, to my room, bring you breakfast in bed, give you a long bath, wipe your body, slowly, kiss every inch of your skin, feel all your tastes on my tongue, cook for you while you would wear a cliche shirt of mine, and smile at me, uninterruptedly, would I make love to you, watch a fun movie, put you to sleep and hear your sweet breath next to me for the last time?

Would I take you to the park and watch children play while holding hands, like that day in Paris, behind Notre-Dame Church? Would I watch you day-dreaming and smiling, recording every single flickering of your eyes?

Would I take you to a down-low pub with live music, have a glass of wine, or more, and smoke a pack of cigarettes while listening to your beautiful accent? Would i drink myself to oblivion while you would vanish as a fantasy?

Would i take you to a far away country, walk and play with the baby all day, through the silence of the wind? Would i be, for that one day, the man you wanted me to be?

Would I take you to a square, big open square, somewhere, and ask you to marry me?

Would i open you up alive to see if my name was ever engraved on your beating heart?

Would i cut off and preserve your pretty head in a jar? Would i keep your body on ice, hoping to warm it up with the craziness from my heart? Would i brush your hair everyday, knowing how much you actually hated it? Would i pull out and carry your eyes with me in a golden box?

Would i torture you for the pain you caused me? Sit there and hear you screaming during paper cuts? Would i bathe in and drink your blood?

Would I just kill you, so no one else would have you? And/or would I kill myself, cause obviously there is no life without you?

Guess none of you will ever know...