marți, 1 martie 2011

They are both here, looking at each other. She moves one hand. She moves one hand too. She smiles. She smiles too. She looks deep in the other’s eyes. The other does the same. They are two but each of them feels so alone, like playing a game of chess all by yourself. It can be fun for a while but afterwards you get sick of the predictability and you move your chair next to the window. At least watching people passing by your window is not something you can control. They just pass. You can observe them, but you can’t do anything. If you think of doing something to one of them, well, you can, but again, what about the rest?
And then the rain starts tapping on the window. You can let yourself win or you can beat yourself in a game of chess but you can’t do shit when rain starts tapping, except for feeling miserable. Such a wonderful feeling, isn’t it? And you’re no longer God; you’re not even a saint or something. You’re nothing else but another... monkey, as the other monkeys say on a YouTube video.
Then you wonder if you did it wrong; if you should do it right? Or quit? Should you quit? What about your queen, so close to your other-self’s king. Should the queen attach? Should my uncle have given me a break when I was a little ugly girl? Should I ever tell him I have chess nightmares ever since? Should I fucking stop asking myself all these questions and go to bed? Too bad...
I guess I should...

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