every picture is a story

i saw her vanishing, slowly, evenly, in a mediocre, boring way. there was nothing romantic about the way i let it happened, or simply the way she did it. i think i always knew that she should vanished the way she lived, unsurprisingly, common, contrast less.  i started to notice, the one drink ordered when no one else did, the additional cigarette when we finished ours, the exaggerated laughters, the slightly higher amount of decibels in her voice, it felt like the brain was so blinded, altered, influenced that it needed a louder voice to ear back what was said.

she was seeking fumes, sweet fumes to distort what the eyes could see or the brain perceive, numbing herself to some unknown wound or simply to boredom because she knew nothing or desire anything. i let it happen because i had no interest in being a saviour, i have my own fears and darkness to keep at bay and maybe looking at it happening to someone else was a derivative to my own sinking, or simply a distraction. then by her own, she started to have the late night out coming back later and later in the night and morning, staggering more and more, sleeping in clothes on the sofa like she was ready to leave again that place she didn’t feel she was welcomed any more, well she was right about that.

i am no saint, not a moralist, and if one day i have to meet my creator, i will have a lot of explaining to do. i saw very young the darkness of substances leading the soul to uncharted area, i have suffered in my flesh the post-fun actions of abuses, when one is searching so strongly joy and laughters in it but only find loneliness, ‘what happened to the fun moment? why don’t they come no more, i need more and more’, for the weak that search leads to frustration, and to the weak frustration becomes roughness, read what you want.

one day of winter i woke up and she wasn’t in bed, on the sofa nor passed out on the floor, so i did what the sum of my weaknesses lead me to do. i packed my things and with that closing door buried all the last 5 years of my life, one more time.