Glimmer

Trigger warning: depictions of suicide

It is August and everything is changing. Fireflies and first loves, all must come to an end. Cherries dangle from a tree. Our hands touch as I reach for them, a mindless fumble that ends with our hands intertwined. Her touch feels like home but I do not know what home is. I open my mouth but no words escape. Hold me.

‘’A day in a heatwave is much more different than any other day. The high heat steals our capacity for walls and barriers and locking up our feelings in a tight, tight box - the sun enlightens even the darkest corners and we have nowhere to hide anymore.’' I ramble on and on and on.

Looking at you, the glimmer of heat distorts your features. It makes you seem so much more beautiful, for a mystery is always more captivating than laying everything you have on a plate. I know you though, over the last 4 years, I have come to know every crevice of your most feared nightmares.

Sam sighs. ’’Jackson, I don’t think you’re hearing me. I want to break up.’' 

A single bead of sweat drips down my forehead. A single tear glistens on her cheek. All I can hear is the solemn singing of the sea, my only wish is to float in the seaweed- green water, take your calloused hand in mine, feel the sting of Mediterranean salt on my bruised lips. Sometimes destiny forgets her job and we are left to fight on our own.

A bittersweet melody rippling through time and space, piercing my heart. The thickening veil between us is killing me, has been killing me for the last year. 

My voice breaks. ’’Why? I love you, I will always love you and I do not care that you love another, you know that we are perfect for each other. Mike will never know you like I do.’'

‘'You know I want to start a new life. For something new to begin, something has to die and our relationship has been dying for some time - you know that. The dog days are over, Jackson.’’

The heat is becoming unbearable, seeping through my every bone. Memory waves pull me in their tides and I let them turn me - wilted, forgotten flowers in the trash can. So utterly romantic, tragic, desperate. Ruins of a reminiscent romance gave me life and so I have lived, loving all things destroyed. Loving you.

Sam sighs once more, it seems as if she starts to speak before her words are ready to leave: ‘’My heart is telling me to leave. Mike can give me the opportunities I have wanted for so long - Argentina and tango, white wine and city lights. If I could be born again here, with you I’d do it but, I am only human. And so are you. And pain is necessary for us to grow and God, you need to grow and get out of your little pre-set box of rules your parents gave you. We are always alone in the end and you will die miserable if you do not know who you are’'

I get it. She wants to fly away, to cut the heavy tug pulling her towards the earth. She lives in a dream, I am chained to the inescapable reality of humanity and nothing can set me free. There were a few moments though - fire flowing from her fingertips as we dance, electrocuting my body, hands searching for something to hold us down in the frenzy of ecstasy and numbness but we fall deeper and deeper down, passion bleeding from my lips as my heart fills with unbridled lust and I have tried to find myself in so many lips but found only regrets - a few irreplaceable moments when the crippling fear of death, a numbing sea, all ragged greys, no colour in sight, seemed almost acceptable. All thanks to her. 

It is August and we have to know when something is ending. A red stain on my mahogany table, our hands are shaking, we seal the end with a single kiss. Sit next to me. A single tear on my cheek, how can you be alive if you don’t feel the sting of solemn pain? You get up and leave. The wine stain stays, a melancholy reminder of all that was. Ends seem so much more meaningful than beginnings. We will be right back here next year - I will be waiting for you. And it will all seem as a faraway dream, only the sweet smell on the table will remind us, it is not, it was real, it still is. It is August, we are saying goodbye and leaving to search for the truth in other bodies, searching to unlock each others secrets with all the wrong keys. Fall will come and maybe we will meet as strangers once more. The way you say my name is my most cherished memory, I keep it hidden deep within the sweet memories of June and July, wrapped up in unnumbered moments. It is August. I will wait. 

They say love is similar to schizophrenia in a way - overwhelmed by emotions, thoughts, chemical reactions in our brain. Love is a sickness and I’m dying. There is no cure. What do I do now? 

Smeared lipstick, adrenaline rush, sleepless nights - and this goddamned heat, always.. She packed her bag and left for Argentina, offering my heart, for we were one, as a present to her new lover.

The sea always understands me. I go and talk to her and she never responds but I know she understands me. I go deeper and deeper and deeper. And I scream. ‘’During three years, I have been cheated on twice. Cause who gives a fuck, right? Who gives a fuck about Jackson? Jackson doesn’t care about anything so it’s completely OK to fuck him over, to take his heart and stomp over it with your high-heeled boots. Click clack, click clack, stomp, stomp, stomp. Fine, whatever.’’

It is August and I am sinking lower and lower. For the sea never disappoints me and she accepts me as I am - there will never be a need for another. They say your life flashes by your eyes but all I see is the deep, deep blue. I can no longer feel the heat and finally, I feel calm.