It was a serene cold night in October that felt like a December night, and just another downhearted man walking in the middle of nowhere. His black trench coat wasn't enough to melt down the ice lingering in his soul, and he had the walk of a man who had just lost everything. His pride was no longer sufficient to conserve his own charm, as if the dust overwhelming his heart extended to the outside.
Such a moonless night with plenty of sparkling stars, just like the story of his life. Darkness overrules. Not the type of scary darkness, though, but the type that reflects the emptiness he felt.
His feet, finally, took him to the only place that could embrace his agony. To the only place that has always felt like home, to the seashore. He kept staring at the waves as they broke, feeling their impact on his whole existence. What is the mother of all this pain? Why are the breaking waves that soothing? It might be the tiny portion of him that is still attached to nature. It's how much in common they have that makes him crawl back to it over and over again. Not a single year has passed without him visiting the seashore, but it's been years and years since they last had a private date.
A war was initiated within the remaining ashes of his burnt soul, something like the Trojan War that was meant to be the end of the great Achilles. Who ever thought that the end of such a courageous hero would be that early? Such flow of scattered notions and thoughts through the vessels reaching for his chaotic brain triggered it to play back hundreds of concealed memories. How the young man broke down, just like the sudden death that never matched Achilles' dignified history! "Did I really crumble out of no reason?" he kept repeating it inside his head without spelling it out.
The years that passed him by flashed in the blink of an eye. All his exceptional achievements.The looks of admiration in people's eyes. His crooked smile every time he received a compliment. His unalterable reply, "Everything changes, but I never do. That's why I'm always happy," echoed in his head. He caught a tear rolling down his cheek that knew nothing but smiles of victory. Nevertheless, what really doubled his agony was his ignorance of when all this pain had accumulated within the youthful, proud soul.
The alternative tidal changes flawlessly found their way into his shipwrecked soul, resembling the butterfly effect. Since they not only restructured the haphazard crystals of sand, but also gradually reached for what's beneath the mask. For the side that he kept escaping from for years and years.
Hardly did he reach for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, when he got one and lit it soullessly. Just like a surgeon cauterising a wound to stop its bleeding. He wasn't even acquainted with the reason for which he was toking on the cigarette, except that he wanted to smoke the night away until he asphyxiated. Even the flashes of the past faded away when he tried to recall them for one last time. One last time? He was not sure if it was actually his last attempt to recall the days of glory, or if that was just one of the nights when death is the most joyful fate he could possibly desire. Even that coffin nail between his fingers insisted to immortalise his agony. With tar getting real, it stained his hands in black. Not only his hands, but it also extended to beneath his skin like a tattoo documenting his scars. His ego surrendered to his devastation. His exhausted body surrendered to the frosty shore. With a surrendered soul and cloudy tearful eyes, he took the absolute last drag of his cigarette. And as he expelled the smoke, he shut his eyes hoping to never open them once more. A last prayer, he yearned for it to be, before the waves echoed beyond the horizon.
Such a moonless night with plenty of sparkling stars, just like the story of his life. Darkness overrules. Not the type of scary darkness, though, but the type that reflects the emptiness he felt.
His feet, finally, took him to the only place that could embrace his agony. To the only place that has always felt like home, to the seashore. He kept staring at the waves as they broke, feeling their impact on his whole existence. What is the mother of all this pain? Why are the breaking waves that soothing? It might be the tiny portion of him that is still attached to nature. It's how much in common they have that makes him crawl back to it over and over again. Not a single year has passed without him visiting the seashore, but it's been years and years since they last had a private date.
A war was initiated within the remaining ashes of his burnt soul, something like the Trojan War that was meant to be the end of the great Achilles. Who ever thought that the end of such a courageous hero would be that early? Such flow of scattered notions and thoughts through the vessels reaching for his chaotic brain triggered it to play back hundreds of concealed memories. How the young man broke down, just like the sudden death that never matched Achilles' dignified history! "Did I really crumble out of no reason?" he kept repeating it inside his head without spelling it out.
The years that passed him by flashed in the blink of an eye. All his exceptional achievements.The looks of admiration in people's eyes. His crooked smile every time he received a compliment. His unalterable reply, "Everything changes, but I never do. That's why I'm always happy," echoed in his head. He caught a tear rolling down his cheek that knew nothing but smiles of victory. Nevertheless, what really doubled his agony was his ignorance of when all this pain had accumulated within the youthful, proud soul.
The alternative tidal changes flawlessly found their way into his shipwrecked soul, resembling the butterfly effect. Since they not only restructured the haphazard crystals of sand, but also gradually reached for what's beneath the mask. For the side that he kept escaping from for years and years.
Hardly did he reach for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, when he got one and lit it soullessly. Just like a surgeon cauterising a wound to stop its bleeding. He wasn't even acquainted with the reason for which he was toking on the cigarette, except that he wanted to smoke the night away until he asphyxiated. Even the flashes of the past faded away when he tried to recall them for one last time. One last time? He was not sure if it was actually his last attempt to recall the days of glory, or if that was just one of the nights when death is the most joyful fate he could possibly desire. Even that coffin nail between his fingers insisted to immortalise his agony. With tar getting real, it stained his hands in black. Not only his hands, but it also extended to beneath his skin like a tattoo documenting his scars. His ego surrendered to his devastation. His exhausted body surrendered to the frosty shore. With a surrendered soul and cloudy tearful eyes, he took the absolute last drag of his cigarette. And as he expelled the smoke, he shut his eyes hoping to never open them once more. A last prayer, he yearned for it to be, before the waves echoed beyond the horizon.
