Saturday, January 19, 2013

Imaginary Meeting

  I've imagined our meeting thousand times. I imagined how we would randomly meet on a street, see each other in a restaurant or in front of a theater. I even used to think about small details like who I would be with or would you be alone or with some one else. I even thought about the season we would meet. Sometimes I wish it was Autumn, but mostly I want to meet you in Summer. Spring would be too boring and Winter would make the situation even colder. The only thing I could never imagine was the dialogue. Would there be any dialogue after all? Would we even talk? I don't even know if you would stop to greet or would I even respond if you did. Maybe we would just walk pass each other, pretending that we did not notice any similar face.
  Who are we after all to each other? Friends? Lovers? Strangers? I don't know and I think that's what makes me go back to you. I just want to know who we are for each other. And even if we end up being strangers, I will be fine with that as long as I get my answer. Sometimes I really look forward to that imaginary meeting. I want it to be random and unexpected, but at the same time not important enough. I don't know why but I believe that seeing you again would clear the confusion that is left. I want to see you again to just understand myself, to realize that I can let it go and tear off that page from my life. I want to look into your eyes with the hope that my reflection is not there anymore. I want to see your smile and understand that it has lost its warmth and meaning for me long time ago. I want to see you for looking at me through your eyes. I hope your look will mean nothing, I hope we both will forget that meeting. And if we do then I will know for sure that it was worth it.
    The truth is that I just want to make sure that you are ok. After all you have always been a friend for me, a goof friend, nothing more and nothing less. I want to meet you ad make sure that my friend is doing great.

                                                                                                            © LiLit Ghazaryan

Friday, January 18, 2013

Missing Colours

     When the feeling is there but you can't find a word to describe it you look for definitions, synonyms and substitutes for that word. But what do you do when the right colour is missing?

   Here I am, sitting in front of my white canvas and looking for the right colour. I can see the image, it's there. It's clear and simple, but the colour... The colour is missing. Do I simply not see it? Is it only about the colour? What if there is something more?
   I had all the colours I wanted right there in front of me. There was no colour missing, there was something missing inside me. And I could not figure out what it was. My palette was full of colours but my own colours where not there. How do you describe the emptiness of the colours? It can't be blank white, white is also a colour. It can't be darkness, the colour of the darkness is black. Everything we see, touch and even feel have their colours. But here I was with no single colour in me. Who was I in that case? What was I after all? Even my empty canvas was  full of all the possible shades of white. My brushes were laying on the table as a palette themselves, with different colours. All those breathless things I was surrounded by had colours. And among all those shades I felt like an invisible statue with no point or meaning. I wanted to create an image, to give life to all those colours and make the blank canvas to come to life. But how could I do it when I myself had turned into an emptiness? I myself needed an artist who would bring me back to life, who would find my colours or at least give me new ones.
    I was an artist trying to create a painting, who ended up looking for another artist who could restore her own image. I was an artist with no colours of my own.
   
                                                                                      © LiLit Ghazaryan

Friday, January 11, 2013

After The Fight

     I was walking down the streets of that beautiful island that seemed like heaven just hours ago. Now I was just walking and not even seeing anything. My own thoughts had filled the air and everything around me. I wish I could at least cry, but there were no tears. Fear, frustration, disappointment... Everything had mixed up together and I did not know what exactly I was feeling.
     What do I do now? I can't walk any further, I don't know the streets and I can not take the risk of getting lost here at this late hour. Where should I go now? I made two-three circles around the hotel and the nearest shops again. How long could I go around the same blocks? I had no choice but to go back to the hotel room. I had no other choice but to face him again, to sit there with him in the same room. How can I go back to whatever I just ran away from? That awkward silence in the room was killing me, there was no way I could take it any longer. Something was eating me inside. I wanted to cry, to scream, to do something... But instead I was just sitting there like a frozen statue. It took me a lot of courage to finally get all my strength to just open the door and walk out of the room. And now I had nowhere else to go, but to that same door. This time it probably would be even harder to open that door again. After making the fifth circle around the hotel I finally decided to enter the building. The lobby, and the way to the elevators... I was walking as slow as possible, so that a little more time would pass. I don't even know why. I was lying to myself that those couple more seconds would change anything or would matter at all. I was alone in the elevator and it made me feel even worse. It felt like there was nobody else in that huge hotel, just me and him. I got out of the elevator at the eighth floor and headed towards our room. The door was locked and it felt like hours passed while I reached for my key and opened it. He was right where I had left him, sitting in the balcony. It was like I had never even left. All this while when I was aimlessly walking and torturing myself with my thoughts, he was just sitting here. I kept going back and forth, trying to figure out what happened and why, but he was just sitting there, at the same place. He hadn't even moved and I doubt that there was a single thought in his head.
The awkward silence filled the room again. It was one of those strange moments when you so want to talk but your mouth just doesn't open. I kept running sentences in my head like a recording but did not dare to say them out loud. I was sure he was going through the same confusion. Why can't one of us just say it, just say something to put an end to that pointless silence. Here I was again, back to my frozen statue mood, not moving and not talking, just killing time.
      I don't know how long I was just standing there while he was sitting in the balcony, but at that point I did not care about anything else but just that very moment. I desperately wanted that moment to end. I even wanted to just go and hug him to make the frustration melt away. I hoped that a single kiss would brake that wall that we so easily created between us just during couple minutes. However, I was still standing there, not even moving my eyes. I could hear myself breath and my own heartbeat was so loud that it felt like my entire body was beating along with my heart.
 
     -Wanna go eat something?
     -Yeah, sure
    And just like that he broke the invisible wall between us. I felt like I heard a big glass door brake. And all the small glass pieces fell on the ground, creating a loud noise, each of them representing a minute of that long hour that we've been torturing ourselves and each other.



                                                                                                     © LiLit Ghazaryan