Imaginary Meeting

  I've imagined our meeting thousand times. I imagined how we would randomly meet on a street, see each other in a restaurant or in front of a theater. I even used to think about small details like who I would be with or would you be alone or with some one else. I even thought about the season we would meet. Sometimes I wish it was Autumn, but mostly I want to meet you in Summer. Spring would be too boring and Winter would make the situation even colder. The only thing I could never imagine was the dialogue. Would there be any dialogue after all? Would we even talk? I don't even know if you would stop to greet or would I even respond if you did. Maybe we would just walk pass each other, pretending that we did not notice any similar face.
  Who are we after all to each other? Friends? Lovers? Strangers? I don't know and I think that's what makes me go back to you. I just want to know who we are for each other. And even if we end up being strangers, I will be fine with that as long as I get my answer. Sometimes I really look forward to that imaginary meeting. I want it to be random and unexpected, but at the same time not important enough. I don't know why but I believe that seeing you again would clear the confusion that is left. I want to see you again to just understand myself, to realize that I can let it go and tear off that page from my life. I want to look into your eyes with the hope that my reflection is not there anymore. I want to see your smile and understand that it has lost its warmth and meaning for me long time ago. I want to see you for looking at me through your eyes. I hope your look will mean nothing, I hope we both will forget that meeting. And if we do then I will know for sure that it was worth it.
    The truth is that I just want to make sure that you are ok. After all you have always been a friend for me, a goof friend, nothing more and nothing less. I want to meet you ad make sure that my friend is doing great.

                                                                                                            © LiLit Ghazaryan

Missing Colours

     When the feeling is there but you can't find a word to describe it you look for definitions, synonyms and substitutes for that word. But what do you do when the right colour is missing?

   Here I am, sitting in front of my white canvas and looking for the right colour. I can see the image, it's there. It's clear and simple, but the colour... The colour is missing. Do I simply not see it? Is it only about the colour? What if there is something more?
   I had all the colours I wanted right there in front of me. There was no colour missing, there was something missing inside me. And I could not figure out what it was. My palette was full of colours but my own colours where not there. How do you describe the emptiness of the colours? It can't be blank white, white is also a colour. It can't be darkness, the colour of the darkness is black. Everything we see, touch and even feel have their colours. But here I was with no single colour in me. Who was I in that case? What was I after all? Even my empty canvas was  full of all the possible shades of white. My brushes were laying on the table as a palette themselves, with different colours. All those breathless things I was surrounded by had colours. And among all those shades I felt like an invisible statue with no point or meaning. I wanted to create an image, to give life to all those colours and make the blank canvas to come to life. But how could I do it when I myself had turned into an emptiness? I myself needed an artist who would bring me back to life, who would find my colours or at least give me new ones.
    I was an artist trying to create a painting, who ended up looking for another artist who could restore her own image. I was an artist with no colours of my own.
   
                                                                                      © LiLit Ghazaryan

After The Fight

     I was walking down the streets of that beautiful island that seemed like heaven just hours ago. Now I was just walking and not even seeing anything. My own thoughts had filled the air and everything around me. I wish I could at least cry, but there were no tears. Fear, frustration, disappointment... Everything had mixed up together and I did not know what exactly I was feeling.
     What do I do now? I can't walk any further, I don't know the streets and I can not take the risk of getting lost here at this late hour. Where should I go now? I made two-three circles around the hotel and the nearest shops again. How long could I go around the same blocks? I had no choice but to go back to the hotel room. I had no other choice but to face him again, to sit there with him in the same room. How can I go back to whatever I just ran away from? That awkward silence in the room was killing me, there was no way I could take it any longer. Something was eating me inside. I wanted to cry, to scream, to do something... But instead I was just sitting there like a frozen statue. It took me a lot of courage to finally get all my strength to just open the door and walk out of the room. And now I had nowhere else to go, but to that same door. This time it probably would be even harder to open that door again. After making the fifth circle around the hotel I finally decided to enter the building. The lobby, and the way to the elevators... I was walking as slow as possible, so that a little more time would pass. I don't even know why. I was lying to myself that those couple more seconds would change anything or would matter at all. I was alone in the elevator and it made me feel even worse. It felt like there was nobody else in that huge hotel, just me and him. I got out of the elevator at the eighth floor and headed towards our room. The door was locked and it felt like hours passed while I reached for my key and opened it. He was right where I had left him, sitting in the balcony. It was like I had never even left. All this while when I was aimlessly walking and torturing myself with my thoughts, he was just sitting here. I kept going back and forth, trying to figure out what happened and why, but he was just sitting there, at the same place. He hadn't even moved and I doubt that there was a single thought in his head.
The awkward silence filled the room again. It was one of those strange moments when you so want to talk but your mouth just doesn't open. I kept running sentences in my head like a recording but did not dare to say them out loud. I was sure he was going through the same confusion. Why can't one of us just say it, just say something to put an end to that pointless silence. Here I was again, back to my frozen statue mood, not moving and not talking, just killing time.
      I don't know how long I was just standing there while he was sitting in the balcony, but at that point I did not care about anything else but just that very moment. I desperately wanted that moment to end. I even wanted to just go and hug him to make the frustration melt away. I hoped that a single kiss would brake that wall that we so easily created between us just during couple minutes. However, I was still standing there, not even moving my eyes. I could hear myself breath and my own heartbeat was so loud that it felt like my entire body was beating along with my heart.
 
     -Wanna go eat something?
     -Yeah, sure
    And just like that he broke the invisible wall between us. I felt like I heard a big glass door brake. And all the small glass pieces fell on the ground, creating a loud noise, each of them representing a minute of that long hour that we've been torturing ourselves and each other.



                                                                                                     © LiLit Ghazaryan

The Colour Of Loneliness

   Loneliness can have different shades, but it's always the same colour - white.
White... The colour that has all the other colours inside it, but at the same time it's so unnoticeable. The white can always be there, but you can't see it unless there's some darkness around it. Just like the white colour, we all have the feeling of loneliness inside us, but it comes out only during the hard times. The scariest thing about loneliness is that it is everywhere. It can meet you in an empty room or follow you among the crowds. Loneliness is an inner feeling, there for it's harder to control. You can't avoid it, you can't hide from it or keep it away from yourself. Loneliness is a part of all of us, it lives in everyone. We have no choice but to fight it, unless it is strong enough to take over.

Loneliness can have different shades, but it's always the same colour - white...


                                                                                                     © LiLit Ghazaryan

The Ocean Of My Love

   Love... It's like jumping into the river without knowing how to swim, without having any guarantees that you will survive...

   And even if you die, you know it's going to be worth it. Blinded by the emotions you are willing to give everything for the feeling you have while jumping off the bridge. You don't think about the consequences while flying in the air, feeling the true freedom. You are willing to jump into the river, knowing it might be the end, just for those couple seconds of happiness, freedom and unity with yourself.

   Just like the love stories, the rivers are also different from one another. Some choose the nice and calm rivers, that give them peace and comfort. Others prefer the crazy rivers, live along the risks, dangers, speed. Some step off the small bridges, so close to the river. They just walk into the water and start their way with the calm river. But some choose the high, dangerous bridges. They are hunting for the feeling of satisfaction they will get when reaching the river after jumping off the bridge, risking everything, including their on lives.
    Just like all the rivers, the love stories also have different rocks and difficulties on their way. Some people fight against the big rocks on their way, others find a boat and make the road easier. But there always will be those who will use the same boat to just run away from their love, to get closer to the shore and get as far from the river as possible.

   Love is just like a river... calm in the morning, crazy at night and faster the next afternoon...
   Love is just like a river... somewhere closer to the bridge, somewhere further from the shore...
   Love is just like a river... It can be full of spring flowers and autumn leaves, that fell into its waters, but it can also be full of rocks and dangers...
  
    What about me? What kind of river did I choose? How high did I jump for my love? What risks was I willing to take?
     I did not choose a river at all, because I was chosen by the deepest waters of the ocean. There were no rocks on my way, because I had miles and miles of the open ocean to fight against. I had to cross the half of the globe, crossing the endless waters of the ocean, without knowing how to swim.

   Love is like a river and you choose the kind you want to fall into, unless you get chosen by the ocean...


                                                                                                            © LiLit Ghazaryan 

We Can Fly People

  The book of the past... I opened it again and the old pages started telling the old story. I don't even know what makes me go back. Did I miss the old tale? Maybe. I don't want to go back, I don't want to go through that anymore. But still, something forces me to go through those old, dusty pages, to read them one more time, to read out loud. Why?
  I want to change the ending of the story. I want it to be more realistic or just less selfish. We made it all so complicated, people always do that. I wanted the story to have a simple ending, something that is expected, but leaves no marks.
I want to change the ending, to make it so small and unimportant so that I will never look back to the old pages. I want it to be so certain and even boring so that the old book never interests me anymore. I want to change the ending, so I can simply move on and forget the old book.
  How funny... We people are so funny and poor. We take the smallest matters and turn them into a giant book. We take a sentence with no meaning and follow it for the rest of our lives, our pathetic lives. We give meanings to things that are not important. We are scared of the facts that maybe do not even exist outside of our imagination. Maybe we live nowhere else but in our minds. Maybe we are nothing else but characters of somebody's dream. Eventually that person will wake up, we will vanish away, the dream will be over. There will be nothing left, the dream will be gone, we will be gone... Everything will be gone, except those worries that we created long time ago. Those worries will still be hanging from trees like empty jars, with a strong surroundings and no meanings inside. Is that all we leave to this world? Empty jars of worries and problems? How about colourful balloons, full of smiles? How about bright lights, decorating the dark streets? How about light paper planes taking our dreams to the wonderland? How about...
  When did it happen? When did we start carrying those heavy bags of books? Why do we still carry those books of the past events? Why? We could fly. People could fly if they wanted to. I could fly if I was strong enough to leave those old books. But no! We carry them, we take them with us everywhere! We go back, read the same pages over and over again, delete the word and replace it with a one that is more aggressive, more painful. And we keep reading it, imagining it, again and again, again and again... and again... again... again
   I'm tired people, I want to fly. I want to  be as light as a feather in the wind. I don't know about you, but I'm throwing my old books away.
  I want to fly! I am going to fly!

                                                                                                                     © LiLit Ghazaryan  

The "Nothing" is Talking

  -How pathetic...

  -What's pathetic?

  -I'm pathetic!
  -You?
  -Yes! Me! Just look at me. Sitting here all lost and confused, acting like a lost little bird on a strange land. But then I think am I acting? Maybe I am lost in a strange land.
  I'm pathetic.
  Is there a mirror here?
  -Why do you need a mirror?
  -Why?! To look at myself, to look at me face and try to figure out if there are any features left. To try to understand if I have at least a drop of character left.

  Mirror... Do you see anything there?
  -I see your reflection
  -Am, I beautiful?
  -Well, you look pretty.
  -Pretty... nah, I'm pathetic. Look! There is nothing, just emptiness. My eyes... they are almost gone, I can see nothing in my eyes. And they were so deep and full of emotions once. Do you think I've lost my emotions?
  -I don't know
  -Well, I do. And yes, I did! I lost everything that showed that this person is me, actually was me. Who am I now? Nobody, nothing, an empty space, a mistake. But no, if I was a mistake people would at least notice me, some would try to fix me, but nobody sees me, so I am nothing.
  I'm nothing people!
  Can you hear me?
  I'm nothing!
  How sad is that, they can't even hear me.
  -But I can
  -You? You can't even talk
  -Yes i can. I am talking now.
  -No my friend, you are not. If not me then you wouldn't talk at all. You are just my imagination. But wait, I said that I am nothing, so I guess I can't have imagination either and that means, my friend, that you are also nothing.
  We just don't exist!
  Me and You!

                                                                                                                              © LiLit Ghazaryan