Strength

   The pipe had been there all along. It was make of some metal, maybe lead or something similar. I’m not an expert on things like that. I just grabbed it when I had the chance and used it fast against my aggressors. The first one got the blow right in his face. Blood came running down his nose fast and I took advantage of that by hitting him again, this time on the top of his head. He crumbled to the floor, his face rolling backwards and now his head also bleeding profusely. All in a few seconds.

 As for the other guy, he had been somewhere else. After all, he thought his friend was going to have his way with me for a while, so he had gone out and probably smoke a cigarette or have something to eat. He wasn’t worried at all because he knew no one would ever go near that abandoned warehouse. It was a huge thing, with several floors and a lot of rats running around. No decent person would ever enter that place, so it was an obvious hideout for the kind of scum they were. It was their natural habitat.

 However, when he came back, I was waiting besides a hole where a door used to stand. I grabbed the pipe with both hands and struck him several times, until I destroyed his hands. Then, I moved on to his legs and I would have killed him if I hadn’t noticed he had lost consciousness a few moments before I stopped. I didn’t drop my weapon and I didn’t run out instantly. I was still in shock, without any pants on and my underwear tainted in a color I have never liked to see. I started trembling and then the tears came running down.

 I had no control over anything. The pipe finally fell out of my hands and made a tremendous noise but there was no one in the vicinity to notice it. I cried for a while but then realized I needed to get my shit together fast. I checked on the men and they were apparently only knocked out. That was good because if people ever learned about all that had happened there, I wouldn’t want any of them to think I had killed someone. They deserved it though. I wanted to grab that pipe and smash their heads many times.

 But I didn’t. I grabbed my pants and shoes. My socks were so wet from all the puddles on the concrete floor that I had to remove them and put them in one of my jacket’s pockets. I put on the pants, slowly, as it hurt more than I had imagined. I cried a little more, this time because of the pain, and then put on my shoes without tying the laces correctly. I walked towards the exit, coming out of the building into a large courtyard. There were weeds all over, even some bushes. It didn’t take me a long time to find the proper exit from that place. I was soon walking among other citizens, down a commercial street.

 I couldn’t go fast. There was a lot of pain and I was afraid that my pants had already been tainted with blood. So I decided to take off my jacket and put it around my waist. It was a very odd thing to do, because it was morning and it was very cold. But I had no choice. I’d rather freeze to death that let anyone wander what had happened to me. A cop actually crossed my path as I tried to pretend I was just taking a morning stroll. He looked at me, straight into my eyes, but he apparently didn’t see anything of interest.

 I checked my pockets several times but I couldn’t find my wallet, my cellphone or anything that had been there the night before. It was then when I realized that I had no recollection of the events of the preceding night. I probably went out for a drink or something but couldn’t really remember a thing. That neighborhood didn’t look familiar at all and it wasn’t the kind to be close to the place I had recently rented. I mean, my neighborhood was awful but this one was… the opposite.

 There were nice stores and old little ladies buying bread for breakfast. There were happy families walking around and old men having a walk with their dogs. It was all very peaceful and even beautiful in a way. I have to say it scared me even more to be in such a place than in a district as dangerous and filled with scum than mine. And it was weird that those men had taken me near such a place. Maybe they thought no one would think to check on old factories near posh neighborhoods. That could be it.

 I finally found a bus stop that had a small city map on the side. It was very helpful to make me understand that I was practically on the opposite side of the city. No wonder I had never known of such a place. In order to make it to my apartment though, I would have to take a bus or the train but I had no money for that. I saw several people waiting for the bus and the thought of robbing them crossed my mind. I had never been that kind of person but you change a little bit when awful things happen to you.

 It was then when a nice old lady talked to me. I hadn’t even seen her getting close. She asked me if I was feeling okay, because I had a “paper look”, as she said. I assured her I was doing great and that I only needed my bus card but had lost it somewhere. I pretended to check my pockets, which was apparently everything the old lady needed. She told me she could lend me her card and pay for the trip. She said she liked helping people, because so many people used to help her everyday, especially when she went to the supermarket for groceries. She wanted me to be her good action of the day.

 Of course, I didn’t complain. I got in the bus with her, not even knowing if the route would take me anywhere near my home. I forced myself to talk to her all along the ride, even if I had no real interest in doing so. She was very nice but the pain I felt was increasing. For some reason, I felt worse that I had a few moments ago. Maybe those men had done something else to me, something that wasn’t as obvious as what I had noticed from the start. Maybe there was something else that was making me feel ill.

 The lady finally got to her stop and I made myself help her down the bus, only to get back into it. She waved to me as the bus pulled away and I did the same. I was surprised to see such a kind person the very same day I had almost killed two people for doing something awful to me. The world felt insane and I was in the middle of all of it. I was going to sit down in the same seat when I noticed the place I had been was tainted with blood. It wasn’t a lot but it was visible enough. I touched the jacket and it was wet.

 I rang for the bus to stop. Luckily, the next stop was very near and I had to wait only for a moment, which seemed to last forever. When the doors open, I almost burst out of there. I was so fast though, that I tripped in the last step and fell hands first into the ground. Every single person on the bus and around the stop looked at me. It was exactly the thing I had no need for. I stood up as fast as I could and ran away as many people tried to ask how I was feeling and as some were wandering what was all that blood about.

 I walked away as fast as I could, finally stopping in front of a large supermarket. There was a breeze there that made me feel a little bit better. I had no idea where I was but there was no point in staying on that bus with my body leaking blood like crazy. It had finally taken its toll on me, as my body felt completely tired. Using my arms and legs was painful and even thinking about all that was happening was tiring. I tried to move from the railing I was leaning against, but I couldn’t.

 Everything went black in a moment. I had glimpses to people gathering around me and voices saying things I didn’t understand. My body did not respond to me. My brain was working but everything else was going away. Darkness came and it lasted for a while, until I had another glimpse, in a hospital.

 A doctor was pointing at me with a flashlight but I didn’t react to it, as I should. I was too tired to do so. The face on that man looked scared, even a bit surprised. But I wasn’t able to ask why he looked like that. I fell back into the darkness and wouldn’t come out of it for quite a while.

Dear you...

   Dear you,

 I dreamt about you again. Isn’t that strange? I hadn’t done that for quite some time. To be honest, I think I missed you there, in the shadows of my mind and my thoughts.

 You were great, by the way. I could feel your touch, your breathing and your whole presence with me. We were in bed and about to make love but we didn’t get quite there. I’m afraid I woke up a little bit beforehand. But that’s not important. What is important is that I felt you there, so close, like I had never felt you in many months, maybe in a year.

 Once I fell asleep, I remembered your scent, your gentle touch. And, although I couldn’t see your face, I knew it was you. It’s always you anyway and sometimes that makes me go mad because dreams can be very well created, very realistic and apparently honest. I wanted you by my side this morning, I wanted to hug you hard, to be able to smell your hair and feel every little feature of your skin. But I couldn’t and that makes me the saddest person on Earth right now.

 How is it that you can enter my dreams like that? You’re there with me, for real, I know it. I feel my mind is not wrong when your arms do feel warm and when your legs join mine and we kiss. It’s you, I just know it is. How can you do it? How can you bare to be here with me and then disappear as if nothing had happened? Am I even important to you, at all? Can you bare to see me go away, walk away from you and declare how much I despise you for stepping away like a shade on sunrise.

 You have been doing this for many months now, maybe years. You know my mind is not the best, my memories are misplaced but my feelings help me not to loose it. And, to be honest, your presence helps me not to go completely mad. Isn’t that funny? Someone that isn’t even here helps me be grounded and balanced. It sound insane and yet it is but it helps. Since you started entering my dreams I have some good nights and I can hope again as I never was able to do. I thank you for that.

 But I know that you know this can only be maintained for a little while. You, coming and going, it’s just not going to work. And not because I need you so much by my side but because I cannot pretend I feel I’m loosing my mind. When you touched my body and I touched yours this morning, I felt on fire. And this fire was not only coming from my heart and my yearning for your skin, but from my mind. My brain is now burning with desires, with needs. My mind wants you to stay too and she can be much more compelling than the rest of me.

 So, would you stay? I think I know the answer to this question but anyway I ask because I know I need to hear it, to read it from you. I need you to tell me something that I can define, that I can understand once and for all because my mind is on the edge, about to fall into an abyss of eternal darkness and despair. I don’t want it to fall into that and all because of you. I don’t want that, I can’t bare the thought of you being my demise. I just can’t do that.

 I have been there before. On one of your absences, I was down there for quite a while. I know now how despair really feels like, how it smells and how it sticks to you like glue that just won’t let go. Darkness was all around me and I had to save myself. To be clear, I would never ask you to save me because that’s not why I need you. You know very well I’m strong enough to withstand anything like that. With every second of despair, of being lost and wandering through life, I’ve grown.

 My looks don’t really give it away, right? I know, I have never been a physical man in any senses but believe when I say that strength comes in many shapes and forms. You could say life has trained me not to depend on anyone, on anything. But, yet again, I’m still human and I still feel like one. I cannot prevent myself from feeling lost sometimes, eager to change or wanting to feel those other feelings, the warm ones that are always there when you are around. That’s one I need from you, what I seek when you’re near me. Not a protection of any kind or someone to protect. Rather, you just make me feel.

 Feel. That sounds so simple, doesn’t it? Maybe it is. Maybe we just complicate our lives, trying to make everything look much more difficult than it is when, the truth is, feeling is just letting yourself go. Maybe that’s why I dream about you sometimes: I let go completely when I’m sleep and then you come and make my mornings just perfect. I swear they are with your kisses, your touch, the sexual desire and that beautiful warmth you bring to my life. If I could dream with you every night, I think I wouldn’t be able to stand it. It would be to much for me. I might be strong but not that strong.

 What’s awful is that I don’t know what you like in the mornings, besides kisses and hugs. Do you like to drink coffee? And if you do, how do you like your coffee? I personally hate it but I would keep one of those machines for you, just to make you happier in the mornings. I can almost picture you, standing by the kitchen counter, sipping from a mug, blowing softly over the coffee to make it go cold. You wouldn’t need to look at me for me to know I would be undoubtedly and deeply in love with you.

 No, don’t be scared. I don’t think I love you know. But I do think that might be possible in the future. If I keep looking at you like I do, if you keep entering my head as you always do, the only possible outcome is that I would become madly in love with you. I would breath for you and walk for you. That may be the future. But again, who knows if there’s going to be a future at all? Maybe we won’t get there; maybe life finds a way to keep us apart for good, only visiting in each other in dreams and illusions until we go insane.

 See? I’m never too far from that word. I guess it haunts me, it chases me through life and I just can’t escape from it. But… It makes me think. What if that’s because of you? What if I’m going insane because I’m already in love with you? People say love is unconditional and universal but that may not be true, love might be different for each person, each individual in this world and that’s how you might be driving me insane. You’re making me fall in love with you. And maybe love is only a poison to me, a venom far worse from anything found in nature.

 It makes sense, when you think about it. That pain, that agonizing pain you feel when you care for someone. It feels like a poison, slowly entering the body slowly, working for years until it finally takes its victim. Strangely, that sounds even more romantic than any other thing I’ve ever heard about. If love was a poison, I would drink it gladly but only if it came for you. That’s my honest answer because I know, every time I see your face, that make me feel different, special, unique and small. And that’s all very strange but amazing.

 I know, for a fact, that I’m not amazing or unique or anything like that. I’m just one small man in a world that is larger than him but that’s also small and insignificant. So who really cares about anything? Who cares if love kills or it doesn’t? I certainly don’t. Who cares if it drives you insane, if it makes you lose yourself completely? Again, I don’t. Because it’s a gamble, a choice you make and I think I might be able to make that choice. Now? No, not now. I have no shame in saying I’m not ready for such a commitment, for such a deep dive.

 But I will. We will all be ready, one fay or the other. There’s a different day, for each of us, in which we will be ready to do what it takes to achieve what we want to achieve, to reach the top of the mountain that has been elusive to our hands. But the mountain doesn’t go away just because you fail or die. It will always be there and one day we will have what it takes to take it for us and make it ours. That’s whom you are for me, my beautiful-snow capped mountain.

 You know? I need you here now. But reality has just fallen with its bright veil around me and I see now that you are not. You are not. And I am. Now I have to keep being until I have my moment, until the day arrives that I can be more than what I am now. Then, hopefully, I will be able to touch you, kiss you and tell you how much I thank you for being there.

The Mark

His eyes move, a lot, still asleep. His hairs is all on one side so we can easily see, on his forehead, a big mark. Red, with lines and black dots.

The man, or boy pending on your definition, wakes up rather fast, opening his eyes as if he had been scared by the boogieman in a dream. He doesn't move, as the physical pain of his forehead comes to him and he has to relive everything again.

He finally gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom. With one hand he holds his hair and stares at his image. The red mark is centered right above the nose. Frowning hurts a bit but he has no way of doing some other facial expression. He lets his hair down again and pees and then washes his hands.

As he walks to the kitchen, he thinks that at least it's not bleeding now, as it was yesterday night. He touches his forehead with care and then watches his fingers: clean.

In the kitchen, he pours some juice into a glass and drinks half of it as if he had been walking across a dessert for years. When he's done, he goes to the living room and sits on the sofa, to watch people go by.

Have they ever done that too? Have they ever caved to their urges and fears and weaknesses?

Who knows... He just watches them as he finishes up the juice and, once again, touches his forehead.

He then remembers being in school, twelve years old or something like that and being mocked for having peed his pants. He was so afraid of speaking to anyone he had held his urge for too much time and accidents happen. No one was kind, nor nice, nor decent. They were all animals and he hated them for it. He was just a kid and from then on, he felt rejected, an outcast.

No, not the moment for that. He goes to the kitchen again and makes a sandwich. Somehow, he's starving. He must have had an awful dream or one of those were you run like crazy, not knowing why.

He goes back in the sofa and eats his breakfast as he sees a man helping a woman with some boxes. They smile and each other and are oddly kind. People are not like that, almost never

He then remembers what it was for him to turn into a teenager, parties and all. And still feeling left out. It was incredible how much he had hated everyone in school so much, and none of them knew. They had no idea he never wanted to see them again. He didn't wish them harm or anything but he didn't care about their happiness. He was too hurt and alone.

The last year of school was different. He was just himself, as he knew he would never come back again. And college was another story, with different disappointments. No, not all was bad. Friends, real ones, were there.

As he finishes his sandwich, he touches the mark again and goes back to the bathroom. He puts some cold water on it and on his hair, to flatten it so people cannot see it easily. It shames him. It's a mark of shame and despair.

He washes the glass and the plate and enjoys the feel of water on his hands. He flattens his rebel hair again and then goes back to the sofa, now with his laptop. He puts on some music and finds himself reviewing, mentally of course, his bad luck in love.

He had grown tired of going out, dates, getting to know people. They didn't even tried to know him, at least to fake interest. No. They just didn't care much. Sex was first many times and he caved as it was fun and felt good but soon that ran out and it wasn't enough.

And the world wasn't helping. He had grown up to see how he had to look and behave and he wasn't that model everyone was supposed to be. And if you weren't, you lost. And he did, or so he felt.

He changes the song, to something a little more upbeat. Starts reading an article about sea creatures with incredible strength and the people that look out for them.

And again, thoughts. His brain was his enemy, no doubt.

Now he remembered, as if he had forgotten, that he had no money, no job, nothing. He had become bored too of sending his damn CV to every single company, even to fast food restaurants and retail stores. No one wanted him. And that felt awful. It hurt a lot to feel no one needed him, or appreciated what little he could do.

He shook his head, feeling some pinches, as his brain now was trying to escape, to move away as he too had become bored with him. He closed his eyes in pain, trying to push everything inside, deep, never to come back out again.

Suddenly he heard a voice and opened his eyes. It was his mother.

 - Hi.

 - Hey.

 - How are you feeling today?

 - Better. Thanks.

 - Sure?

He doubts.

 - Yeah.

She sighs and moves on to the kitchen.

After hitting himself with the first object he could get his hand on, he stroke his head too with his fists and he had a physical strength that scared him. He had caved to his inner fears, his demons, everything that was eating his brain.

He bled alone and cried as he hadn't done in so many years, when he thought he had kept it all behind. No. The past always comes back to have a bite of your brain, to torture you slowly.

And he, fed up, had taken matters in his owns hands and almost broke his skull.

As his mother made breakfast for herself, he took a few deep breaths and calmed down. He had to be strong, as she had said. "Take control of your feeling. Don't let them control you". And he knew she was right.

He hoped, really hard, that things would change soon. But that is something no one knows, until it happens or it doesn't.