The End of the Beginning

  It’s weird how the house suddenly gets quiet after everything you once dreamed of as a kid, now became a void full of memories that were just too good to forget. Pictures from the past, they never got lost, the smell of joy and regret, collapsing into each other’s arms, haunting your lungs in an empty box. A dark room full of old songs, scattered between the sad and lonely walls of your  heart. Fingerprints from your childhood, swept under the dusty rugs, the colors of laughter painted on the curtains.   

   Maybe life’s just a dream, and we’re still sleeping in kindergarten, waiting for our parents to pick us up and bring us back home, to the end of beginning, where our lives were endless. Or maybe, all of this is nothing but the trailer to our own horror movies, but sadly, we aren’t the ones writing the script of our future.

   People like to say that you are capable of creating your own destiny, yet everyone tries to dictate, like they’re some kind of gods, but really, they are all human, just like us, trapped in this prison with a pretty blue sky and shining stars. We destroy what we are given, saying that it’s for our own safety, but deep down, no one knows what we all want, what we all need. And then you take, and you take, and you take, and you take, but you taste like the beach and a kiss. Like salt on tired lips, like August refusing to end, like something beautiful and powerful that was never meant to stay. Is it the end of an era?

   Years go by. Words are said. Tears are left to dry, and there’s nothing else to forget. Yesterday we fly, and tomorrow we die. And the only things we can really hold on to are our sweet and sour memories.

   I would love to go back to the old house. Carve my name on the walls that protected me from the lies, touch the carpet covering the past, close my eyes and just let myself drown, until every piece of life is drained out of my body. And when the world finally goes quiet, I hear my voice. A soft, warm touch fading into my bones. Suddenly, the feeling I’ve been searching for my entire life is not science fiction anymore. It’s the reality. My reality.

Lengyel Dániel IX. H