Updated: 20 hours ago
I have the feeling that we constantly think of each other, that we are constantly writing messages, but let them get lost in the Universe. This time I am going to take my chance and… send this, not directly, unfortunately for you. There is no direct connection between you and me anymore. My excuse is that I no longer know where you live. There is little chance for you to read this. But let’s play a game, if you do, text me the words ‘I know’. I promise I will not reply back unless you ask me to.
I constantly have this specific scenario in mind. A cold night in the mountains, a clear sky… you and me at a safe distance, with stories that separate us instead of bringing us closer. You are counting the stars, I am counting the thoughts that are crossing your mind. Do you remember? Because I do... It was the night I told you ‘Goodbye’ and welcomed a new ‘Hello’, but not from you this time.
You left behind a broken guitar riff, that I do not know how to repair. I tried to make it sing, but there is a rhythm that I cannot follow. It sounds too distorted. It’s hurting me more and more. It's like everything passes me, but my legs refuse to move. I have this image that follows me like a ghost. It is you, watching me when I step away, walk away. I never looked back, I could not see the tears in your eyes when I gave up on everything that we had built. I do not have the same passion that we had, and I was jealous of, at the same time. The interesting thing is that… looking back….
People confuse me with you, calling me an artist. But what kind of artist abandons everything, abandons you. Is this letter a cry for help? A shout into the void in order to see if you are going to respond? You took my echo. Are these lines a way to search for you? To find you between these words? Or something else? My little secret is that I was not capable of inviting the Art back into my life. I have only ideas of how a composition should look like, how is it to tell a story, to touch another soul… Am I searching for myself?
But who were you? Who did I say ‘Goodbye’ to? There was a time when I thought that I could not live without a part of myself, a part which was toxic, a part which I created to forget about who I was. Unfortunately, I became that, unconsciously. I became you. In the past, I would have repeated the words that I wrote earlier. That I needed you. But that cold night in the mountains, that clear sky… when a star, my star, put a barrier between us with its light. It blinded me for a second, it took my breath and gave me back…. Life. It was the first time in forever when I… I saw that we are two different entities. I created you, the illusion of… of a safe place. Away from mundane reality, away from a reality that I knew I do not belong. I still know I am not a part of it. I thought that I would not be alone anymore, with you by my side. I was wrong. With you, I felt a human being with no solution, with no answer that I should have had to my solitude. I had no power to give them… no power to follow their path. That is the definition of loneliness. Everything that we built, shattered. I walked away from you, trying to avoid the ruins. You never had to feel what I felt. You were an illusion from the beginning, I was the only reality. It is common knowledge that… reality is worse than imagination. Reality can reveal what imagination cannot create.
Now I have my star to guide me. I have learned that love and happiness can be defined by the time that is continuously passing. What else is suffering rather than a forced stop in our movement as humans, a tremendous inertia that is pressuring us? I am a mess, broken, but full of light. I am finding my way back. This letter represents my faith that one day I will be able to respect my arrangement that I made with ‘ART’, that I will use my voice to help anyone who wants to feel less alone.
Someday I will be able to write and sing again, maybe under another form. Either way, I have my star as inspiration.
Someone that is a work in progress
By Flavia-Ioana Tofan Flavia, or Deminiss as some people call her, discovered her passions be chance. Reading helped her escape from the mundane reality and saved her from getting lost in a world where she does not feel like she belongs. Music and writing gave her a voice, an opportunity to understand people and herself. She believes that everybody has their own story and sharing them keeps us alive. That’s why she continues writing, singing, and reading: She wants to make sure that at least one person feels less lonely, or feels like is someone who understands.