Eyes of Regret

My father was a proud man. He never asked for help. My mother was a dependent woman. She couldn’t do anything on her own. I guess this is the greatest bond between them, the one that kept them together for all these years. I had a brother, too. He was a few years younger than me and a mixture of both pride and dependence. He couldn’t act on his own, though never ask for help. That’s a weird combination, I say!

I was the first son, the good one, the smarter one. I was a child of great potential and as such, I had to carry on my back the burden of my parents’ great expectations. I could see it in their eyes, how much they believed in me and what a big failure I was every day to come. For, I didn’t make any effort – though I could – to be what they had dreamt of me.

However, I was still their favorite son. I guess they had expected me to eventually get into the right track. What this track really was, I would never be able to figure out. Yet, they insisted on me getting into it, neither explicitly or directly, but subconsciously, ordering me with the look of disapproval.

This look never ceased to following me, even when I was running away or I was sleeping. Two – sometimes four – eyes watching from the sky every single step I would make with disappointment and regret. Two such eyes would appear smiling ironically at my shattered dreams. A smile denoting: “I told you so”. They would stay unexpressed or superficially joyous before my success, making me think that I shouldn’t be so excited or that I shouldn’t celebrate that much for such a trifle.

For a long time I kept walking on the lonely road of intuition without paying attention to the observing eyes. For a long time I wouldn’t admit how depressed I was. For a long time I couldn’t express my feelings, my mind, my wants, my likes and dislikes, without filtering them first in order to accept a favorable gaze. For a long time I was acting, pretending to be someone else only to be supported.

I did love my family. I did try to be compliant to the rules my parents had set. I never meant to disappoint them, never to worry them, never to make them feel bad. I didn’t ever talk to them. I couldn’t do it. I felt choking when I was trying to find the right words. I couldn’t do it. They wouldn’t understand anyway.

It’s funny though, to be understood and encouraged by strangers better than your own folks. I am sorry for those, who believed in me. I am sorry for those, who tried to convince me I was worthy and talented. I am sorry for those, who made their best to help me do the next step. “I am sorry” were the very last words I left behind, written on an old supermarket receipt.

My parents often look up in the sky. Their eyes are darkened and do not smile anymore. They do not say anything, but in their dead silence they seem to agree. I sometimes wonder, can they sense my gaze upon them?

The Shine

A dim light was shining into the deep darkness. The cold was unbearable and the neighborhood seemed deserted. The only sound around came from the blowing of the wind that made the window blinds creak and the garbage in the corner jigger. A cat crossed the street quickly in search of a warm and peaceful shelter and screened itself behind the litter bins.

That was all she could see from her window, sighing with grief and disappointment. She was standing there for many hours now, waiting for him. He had told her to do so and she did. The candle – like her hopes – was almost out, when the big wall clock stroke midnight. She took a last glance of the empty road and blew unwillingly the candle out.

It was the cock-crow that woke her up early in the morning. Not that she had slept much during the night. Today, though, it was a brand new day and anything could happen. She took her shopping basket and walked towards the open market. It was a shiny day, a bit warmer than the previous ones, a fact that made the residents of this picturesque little town come out of their shell for a while. She actually talked to some of them, curtseyed gracefully to others and avoided the gazes of certain individuals, who were inclined to gossiping and vicious rumors.

In front of the fishmonger she stopped to take a look at the fish, which she found irresistibly fresh. While she was choosing a few, she felt a movement in her dress. She turned back instantly to see a little boy holding a piece of paper for her and once he handed it out, he run away hastily to join the other boys, who had found an amusement in chasing some geese. She unfolded the paper impatiently to read the note: “Meet me at the church tomorrow after the liturgy”.

And she did go to the church the following day with a burning desire to meet him, to see his loving figure, to feel his tender touch, to hear his smooth voice again. After the liturgy was over, she found a bench nearby, where she sat waiting. But an hour had passed and he hadn’t showed up. She felt her heart torn into thousand pieces. She couldn’t stand of any more expectancy of an unrequited love, yet she couldn’t set herself free from this afflictive bond.

She was about to leave, when she heard a horse galloping approaching the church yard. A smile was formed unconsciously on her face that was shining with hope; her pulses were almost ready to burst out and there he was, on a white horse like a prince out of a fairy tale. How charming he really was! How gorgeous! How… not alone! She turned pale, the smile vanished, the pulses diminished in the view of a lady sitting on the back of the horse holding him tight around his waist. He stopped before the church entrance and gently helped the lady to descent. Then, he took her by the hand and entered the holy chapel.

She stood there beside the bench still like a status, frozen like a picture, cold like ice. A few seconds were enough to lose every sign of vividness there was in her. She had no heart to feel, no mind to think, no beats to live, and yet she was still waiting as he had told her to do so.

Half an hour later, he showed up at the door looking around anxiously. Suddenly, his gaze fell upon her like an electroshock that brought her back to life. She timidly made a step to leave, but he run after her calling her name with joy. When they finally faced each other, he said: “Are you not coming in? We are waiting for you.” She blushed and stared at him speechless. “Will you marry me now?” he asked in excitement and she shone like the brightest star.

The Virus

I have a terrible mind-ache today. I guess I’ve got the virus in me. Do not open up your mind; do not accept what I am saying, unless you have already installed the anti-virus in you. At least I warned you. Now, do as you wish.

I have a terrible mind-ache, but I guess I’m not the only one – or I hope so. Overloaded with meaningless data, colorless images, and uncountable figures my mind is on the verge of a total crash. Attached to a degrading, shameless and thriving digital world, it is sent by-and-by towards a giant crushing machine of the critical thought.

I’m trying to gather my splintered thoughts and save them as a first version of an understanding that keeps eluding me. What used to be “dreams” is somehow renamed to “happy nightmares”, but I can’t recall me doing this change. My feelings are dragged from the inside and dropped somewhere in between. I am unable to restore them as they were before.

Fatal error, access denied, request ignored, everything seems to malfunction. Now, the signified has no signifier; symbols have no meaning. I’m lost in the translation of the binary code. I can see numerous windows, but no view. I can speak to numerous people, but not touch. I can do numerous things, but not move.

I wish I could undo all these and get back home, but I suppose I’ve made too many clicks alright. Now that I’ve got this virus, I regret for not having kept a backup of my best self. I guess I have to restart with the default settings and regain one by one all my lost properties.

However, I can’t do this on my own. I need your help to press the button.

Shortcut: My mind aches.doc

Copy and paste: My mind aches. My mind aches. My mind aches. My mind ach__________________________________________________________

Start; Shut down; Restart.

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