The harm was already done.
So here I am, walking on the suburbs of Oklahoma City. With my white shirt, jeans and brown shoes, with a poor and funny english, I’ve already noticed how my thoughts are changed. Nobody seems to notice that, simply because I am very quiet here, to not disturb this American composition which I breath inside me with every step – a bit of Andy Warhol psychedelic banalities, a bit of Avedon’s realist pictures, and a bit of Grant Wood legacy.
Until I met you, never heard much about this state. Only knew that was somewhere in midwest, information that now appear to be false because, I read – Oklahoma is part of the South. Actually, Americans themselves not yet definitely agreed if Oklahoma is south, midwest, great plains or other unofficial groups. And I don’t care much, because the reason for me being here is you.
The way I think is changed, maybe because of the huge, huge sky and horizon here. I feel free. I feel in love. I see you everywhere, and here everywhere is bigger then usual everywhere, from where I am. My thoughts are changed and the first sign is that I feel (and think) in your language. From a psychological perspective, this is a projection. My inner self needed you so badly that the most drastic form to achieve this is not only to fell in love with you, but to become you. I watch your face smiling on the sky, on the top of Burger King on Midwest blvd, as I would watch myself in a mirror. I am you.
This is the second time in my life when I am about to say my life is your life. I am yours and you are mine. But this time, it will be endless like your home sky. This time will be endless because I am here to took your existence and melt it with mine. Of course, taking someone’s existence is still illegal (big playful smile on my face, now, like the smile of any father face when telling a joke) that’s why I’ll do this only from my perspective, only in my reality.
The harm was already done. I can’t stop what I feel. I love you, Nicole, I really love you. I am here to take you. So, hands in the air (same smile). This is a kidnap. This is a robbery. I am here to take your entire life, your entire history, your dog, your parrot, your eyes, your body, your accent, your smell, your yellow nails, your taste, your memories, your first word – mummy, your feelings, your dreams, your sorrow and pain, your thoughts rolling every night, your summer heat and your winter snow, your sweat when you make love, your loneliness when you feel hurt, your mask, your persona and your deeper self. To take them all and close them inside this prison with two dimensions – one, this words, this thoughts written in a bad and funny english. Two, this chest of mine who now is wide opened like your sky.
So, this is my reality now. And you are a big part of it. In my reality, it will be no pain. I have the power to construct and deconstruct worlds and people and existences. In my reality, it is so easy and natural to say I love you when you feel love. It is so easy to caress someone’s heart and to heal.
Look. Here, Nicole, I am a God. Lined up in the sky, on top of the Burger King’s roof, is you: all Nicole pieces. Every decision that made what you are now. Let’s choose. Let’s build a pure Nicole, putting away those parts who make you suffer in the past. Let’s build a Nicole who’s only feeling is the feeling that she had after every birth, hugging her babies. A mother love. A big, healthy, sweet and fat love. The purest thing of earth, imagine that from a door to another door of the horizon, from the south to the north, from the east to the west, on the entire blue sky, just love, just the feeling you had when hugging a new born.
Here, in my imagination, in my heart I can do this. And I can feel it and live it for a moment. Sometimes, a short moment is just what we need to move on.
So here I am, walking on the suburbs of Oklahoma City. With my white shirt, jeans and brown shoes, with a poor and funny english, heading to a park where we will meet for the first time. And I already love you.
After one year of antidepressant medication, I feel healthy. I feel myself again, I can smile and dream and, the most important, I can love.
Before the great plague, my life seems to hit a hard wall. I didn’t know who I am and what I am anymore. Luckily, in my pocket is a note written by me then. I took my glasses, I asked for another coffee and started to read:
“The horses left me. The most beautiful sad horses on earth. Here, in the middle of nowhere, I was alone, blindly searching the traces of their hooves. I am the last madman in the prairie, routing the grass with my nails, talking with the wind. So much time in my life I was surrounded by shadows that didn’t even notice my flash turning green, first, then transparent, then blue – I call this nuance “disappearing blue”. My life is a thousand-year-old dream, I thought, and the mongol hordes from my vivid dreams an illusion like love.
But I’m more than that, I said to myself. I immediately peeled off my body from what was a skeleton illusion and with the own skin on my right arm I was going to look for a tree. I hanged there for nine days until my flesh grew back. That skeleton was you. The illusion, our marriage.
More than two years I was crippled, trembling by fear of acting like a god: offering myself to myself. You see, I was nothing than a man when I said, a decade ago – yes, my life is your life. Take me, as you take a soda from a nice puerto-rican somewhere in Florida, on the hottest day ever. And you took it.
As a man, your man, I had my share of sins, of disappointments and weaknesses. I had also resilience, stoicism, the power to endure your coldest words and actions, your deepest cuts into my chest, sewing myself without anesthesia, just to be here, just to be yours and part of what supposed to be We. Now, I am down. Lonely. Hurt.
I repeat myself: I’m young again, I’m strong, healthy, I will chew my destiny and I will sit at the same table with the gods.
I will left my prairie madman behind like a snakeskin, I will reborn, and here, in this metamorphosis, is a damn juicy pleasure to know that you will be reborn who knows how, who knows where, when and with whom.”
This note was writen just before the great plague. I smiled. How ironic. It needed a plague and almost two years to that note to become true.
So, here I am. Walking on the suburbs of Oklahoma City. Having a coffee at Burger King, looking to meet you for the first time. I paid five bucks and I felt home. Also, very energetic and happy.