Whatever remains, however improbable…

Did you ever feel how someone who`s dark and maybe down, resigning life, can embrace you? Without even a touch, only with a look…the embrace of that deep darkness of someone used to be forgotten or ignored or just down? I did… and I still wonder how come it can be so burning, how come in all that exhaustion of life, in all that abandoning, where did that power come? They say that melancholia is a form of painful anaesthesia, the most absurd definition…or is it? In all that absurd continuum of pain…where does that power of holding and embrace come from?

That embrace…that feels more deep than any love declaration or red rose or demostration of affection. It has nothing to prove, it just is. The embrace of darkness…that could sound a bit gothic but is as real as life. Inside all that death and abandonment what is left is given away…to whom could see. Beyond all that life ignoring and lack of meaning, when the answer to the main question seems established, when one simple look from such tired colourless eyes feels like the most haunting and unexplicable love…there the question remains: how is it possible? To feel the embrace of someone else`s dark so warm and also heavy, so unmasked and lacking in glitter, so painfully beautiful in its truth…and yet…it feels this way.

The embrace of such colourless and tired of existence eyes, which see you and see your own dark and yet they not only don`t judge you but they see exactly how you did not want to be seen. Being completely you. That embrace, of someone who doesn`t want life is more full of life than life itself…because it holds you. That embrace that doesn`t want to fix you, like everyone else…

In this world, where everyone is trying to fix everyone and call it love…as if that part of you, or me, that needs to be fixed isn`t still you or me…

And yet, someone`s darkness saw and held me, even the part I hate, even the dark I know and wanted to escape from, even when I thought I was unseen under my white unform, even under that grey that covered my sight.

It was more frightening and real and freeing than I remembered it can be…Because what someone saw and held  under all the walls and prejudices and so called definition of myself, beneath all that, whatever remains, however improbable…was me.



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