Empty street, lights flickering, total silence, slightly dark street. Nothing but the sound of wind and my heart’s broken pieces breaking into smaller pieces, again and again and again. It seems like the road has no end and that the light in the end is just some myth, some quote they recite blindly, because I’ve been standing here for years and all I’ve seen was darkness. If I was a smoker I would’ve been sitting there watching the smoke rise up into the air, and I’ve hated how the smoke of a cigarette was more free than I was. It could go on roam the universe and soon would be out of sight. Or that’s how I imagined it to be at least. But I wasn’t a smoker.
I was addicted to observing things and all their little details, I remember standing still and watching a fly stand still, move its legs, flap its wings then stand still again, and I recall my mother thinking I had weird hobbies. I slightly raised my head up and looked at the empty sky, the stars were shining as they always did, funny to think they already exploded thousands of years ago, makes me feel like I’m watching the past while staying in the present. The moon was looking outsanding, as always, beautifully standing in the middle of the sky like a humble queen of a party, the kind of queen everyone could spend hours staring at her beauty and feel like it was only a couple of minutes. I went back to looking at the empty silent street, and decided to stand up.
It was that moment when I stood up that my heart’s breaking and the screaming voices in my head stopped, everything stopped inside my body, everything around me stopped. During the silence of the night and my observations of the beauty of nature, a privilege we pay no money to enjoy, there was a fight inside this rusty body of mine, a fight of organs striving to stay alive, a fight against death, and I’ll leave you to guess, which one won this battle of mine.