He stands at the edge of the balkony, threatenning to fall due to the strong wind the was blowing ever since earlier that morning. The wind takes away all words, seeking to sweep away the hopes, the last dreams...
"There are not any, you hear me?" he yells at they wind. "There were never any!!" he fools himself, lies he speaks... He's empty, vacant. It rains. He doesn't care. Maybe the rain will wash away the pain, the pain that stings the heart he never had so deeply. There are tears in his eyes. Tears that flowed because the heart could not hold them back. He stands there still, as if he turned to stone all of a sudden and became a masterpiece of art, a sculpture, his face a mask of apathy. Apathy and pain and despair and sadness. Deep untold sadness. He stands there still, numb. The decisive, the hopeful, the one self that dared to dream does not exist anymore. The shameless, the cold, the other self that delivered the final blow does not exist either.
He was walking all day, screaming, crying, but no one understood, no one cared. All life a stage-play, a silly stage-play, in which no one wins, just loses. And because of that, the fact that life is a stage-play, you can never know if the other trully cares or is just acting his part. But he cared. He did care. Even if it was for a single moment... he did care.
And now... now that everything was over and done... Who was he? He was becomming all the more transparent, all the more mundane. He walked the whole day looking for a familliar face but he found none -no one really knew him, so how could they be familliar to him in turn?-. Nothing! Nobody! And it was unfair. Unfair for him.
He was walking all day, screaming, crying, but no one understood, no one cared. All life a stage-play, a silly stage-play, in which no one wins, just loses. And because of that, the fact that life is a stage-play, you can never know if the other trully cares or is just acting his part. But he cared. He did care. Even if it was for a single moment... he did care.
And now... now that everything was over and done... Who was he? He was becomming all the more transparent, all the more mundane. He walked the whole day looking for a familliar face but he found none -no one really knew him, so how could they be familliar to him in turn?-. Nothing! Nobody! And it was unfair. Unfair for him.
"Everybody's running, they try to catch up." a little red-headed child told him. But before he could ask the little boy what they were running after it had already dissapeared. And he stood alone, at the edge of the balkony for another moment. What worth is there in life if you don't have something to fight for, someone to care for -someone who will care for you?- His vision blurred by bitter tears, hands losing their grip on the balkony's edge, feet dropped in the void bellow and he fell. The sun was setting in the horizon.
Goodnight... and goodbye... quickly...