Moments

A big pile of thoughts about life all written at once without any order

“Say, isn’t life full of adventures?” I speak as I gulped down my last shot of tequila.

“Quite mundane I would say, almost every person I meet is like a void of space…talking nothing but meaningless paragraphs”

“True, but at some point I would not say entirely because they just didn’t find themselves you know. Their true-self is like a gem that they didn’t find yet so they are still wandering inside their dark, cold cave”

“Not all caves have gems though”

“But that’s the question of doubt my friend. You see, you are more convinced on not finding that gem because of your lack of hope”

“Well, then my hope is quite on the short side of the string”

“I long to extend mine”

“It always leads to an end dear”

“But an end nonetheless. My end of hope will be vanished once I reach another end. An end of searching and finding content but also the gem”

“Your extended hope leads you to be naïve, a gem can be false.”

“However that means you’re not in a cave dear, but in everyday city shops”

The woman shrugged and sipped on her wine.

I put my last dollar bill on the bar stand until a man comes up and smashes down another one with his gloved hand.

“2 more shots please”

“Oh how convenient, I hope both are for me” I say.

“I expect a good share of conversation and flirtatious smirks then” He responds.

“Those don’t need a price, I give them out freely”

“Then I would like a half of those shots”

“Very well then, but I need something meaningless whispered to my ear” I whispered.

“Sadly, I can’t provide anything empty for you tonight, you seem too enticing to me”

“What a shame, I hoped for something vapid as usual, I guess I can’t keep up my tradition”

“I don’t need to change your traditions madam, however I can certainly evolve them”

“How so” I grabbed my cigarettes and lit one up.

“I’m done with the good search in my cave certainly” He quietly said.

I smirked. “Strangers shouldn’t eavesdrop, only enemies should.”

A good amount of chuckling rose in the background from several people as they were playing their card games. He laughed a good amount himself. “Can’t really help myself, you intend to make your words loud so you can unintentionally create a propaganda of your own opinions.” He says.

“I guess I thought I was quieter in my head”

The bartender brought the extra 2 shots of tequila and the strange man gestured his for a cheers.

“Should I do a speech?” I ask.

“Not necessarily. Speeches provide no promises nor its real meaning. Just scripted sentences to make the moment livelier.”

“Everything is livelier now before I wake up the next morning”

“I hate vague memories where you then recall every detail, it’s annoying” he adds.

“Not to say tiring” I also add.

“My mind is mostly filled with a good load of crap and very little shine. Too bad I don’t have a maid in my head” He responds.

“They’re pricey, you have to become one yourself”

“Hah, it’s exhausting to be one though, I want someone else to do that for me”

“It all up to you unfortunately, you have to work on yourself” I say.

“I said I already did, but only to an extent”

“You still have a lot of ahead of you, waste it wisely”

“And so I shall…by another shot of course” He said as he gulped down his drink.

And then we kissed for the longest time right before we left the loneliest bar in the town. “I say it’s midnight and no one cares for a dance in the street” I drunkenly state.

“The town is deader than my home”

“I liked the 20s, so full of joy and carelessness, a girl would hardly resist to flap her dress around down the sidewalk” I say.

“We can awaken it” he insisted.

And so the man took my hand and we did a good form of swing dance while jazz music was faintly playing in the background from another open bar. “Is this a dream?” I ask.

“It’s a scene, it either happens in your conscious state or your unconscious one” He answered.

“I do like my scenes, they’re so lovely, and most of them are deleted”

“But you always cut out the good scenes, how come”

“That’s because they don’t intend to happen my darling”

“Even the dark ones?” He asks surprisingly.

“The darker ones give out greater attention, but those don’t happen either”

“What about me” He says after a short silence between us.

“Well, you make this scene last longer, but that’s not bad. You make my scene a little worthier than before”

“I doubt your scene was worthless from the beginning”

“Only partly. I did have some value to it but sadly this scene will end soon.” I speak.

“I find that very upsetting, how come”

“All that will be left of you is an endless memory that I wish I could revisit continuously and experience it each time differently” I explain.

“You can certainly create new ones. That way it’s less boring. You can move our little adventure elsewhere” he suggests.

“Oh but the feeling will be different and I fear that. I want the feeling to stay the same”

“Now where’s the dynamic to that”

“There too much dynamic everywhere. I’m going mad, I need something consistent” I say.

“Your mind is the only thing that can stay consistent” he says.

“I want my mind to evolve and I want my moments to keep its potential”

“I will vanish too, I am dynamic as anyone else in your life, keep your potential at the same level with your changes”

“That’s exhausting” I sigh as we walked down the empty streets.

“You find no joy in it then” he smiles.

“Very little indeed. Too many people abandon their caves with empty hands. Too much effort to overcome their boredom” I stare at the street lamps.

“That’s because you know very little, they seem too blank for you…add some color to it”

“I have my limits to my colors, would have to buy another packet of paint again”

“Then color it on some good paper. One that can last long enough to preserve”

I look into his eyes. “Papers vary, painting are beautiful, I wish every painting was gorgeous” I say.

“Make a gallery then” he insisted.

“I would love those paintings to be seen and shared. To bring out awe mostly anyway”

“I say, make a gallery, nothing else but a space of your beauty brought to the public” he repeated.

“Too exhausting darling, I like everything tightly flowing in my mind. Too exhausting, to be put outside mind you” I respond.

“Why” he asks.

“Too much effort. I have so many things inside. They flow, vanish, yet re-appear again. I do not intend to capture them for an extended time nor do I fear of losing them” I answer as I gazed into the river from the bridge we were standing on.

 

 

Author's Note

It has no particular structure, let's say this is a small bit of something I wrote.