Part-time pains

Some days I might go as far as to envy all you already had and which I may still be too young to have had. Or feel intimidated by how much of you your past did carve and how it marred you in more or less permanent ways; or weak at the knowledge that not only should your scars be rougher than mine but, above all, they’re different, and that difference can unsettle me and make me question how differently we see life, and what that means. And your prior path, the one who introduced you to pretty much all you might feel you needed to be introduced to, and so, I might gauge myself as a marginal shot, one of shorter reach, minor… It’s not hard to allow doubt to fill us, one should only prevail over it, again and again.

And these, though insipid and unreasonable, are anyway thoughts that occur to me whenever I am faced with hints that there’s no way to be in full control of things. Although honestly, I live believing that we are secure. – Our pasts united us, would our futures cynically pull us apart? That’d be cliché, too lame. – That’s the only way I see us, I trust I’d have slowly quitted if otherwise. I’m not good at engaging in abstemiousness. It strains me more to act distant and contained than to be all in. Being outside leads to more cogitation unless we’re busy, but I’m not a guy of much busyness, specially on holidays.

Yes, on those days I might take my heart to some silly places: tilled in shades slightly darker, mainly dirtier, and they blemish me for a little while; plain consequences of an unavoidable urge to see ahead, as though that’s the one way to make the current moment feel more satisfactory. Blaming us for being in a situation where we can’t make this more perfect than it already is. I might dive a little too deep into these lakes of fairytalishness and end up tangled in the emerald vines which clog their beds, and as I look up I spot an arm reaching down through the frenetic bubbles that arise from my body; and as fast as I plunged, I’m out again. I’m fond of this congruence, it’s like your hair smells even nicer then, when we’re down by the bottomlands, than I could remember. The water does always bring out the scent of things… science explains it!

I regain my senses and shortly after, you do me good by telling I mustn’t worry or sadden myself dwelling on what aren’t our dilemmas. But you know, here between us, I just seem to need being reassured that, once in a while. I’m heedless and withdraw from quietude when seeing my fate occasionally blur. Plus, in the semi-darkness of your words lie heaps of peace undug, and they’re as enlightening as they are thought-provoking. It’d be indeed hard not to crave a little time out like this with you. Only your lap and my short dripping hair, then your dim whispers carry me out in a doze like nothing wrong ever did or will afflict us. I trust that.

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