quinta-feira, 11 de agosto de 2011
It was a cloudy day and she was walking at her own pace. “No need to hurry. Not now.” She thought. It was pleasant to walk having trees around her. Her mind was floating back and forth between nothing and blurred thoughts she would not be able to remember even if she tried very hard. Forgetting what one thinks was hard, but do-able. Letting go of the pain, however, was impossible. She noticed a tree whose trunk was carved with dozens of names, maybe a hundred of them. Maybe more. She saw herself in that tree. She was the tree, carved with silent scars shaped as names of people who had been in her life once and forever on.
Her fingers touched one of the names. The writing was deep, quite visible and impossible to ignore. She felt sorry for the tree, as that name had been so mercilessly written on it. Illogically, she needed to let out one of the invisible names that had been carved into her core. She picked up a sharp stone and carved out of her the word “Nathan” on the trunk. As she had urged to be close to him for a more extensive time than what she could bare, her second instinct was to write her own name under it. Yet, something kept her from doing so. Instinctively, she walked towards a tree which stood right in front of the first one and there she wrote her name. Her name would watch Nathan’s from a distance, knowing she could never have him.
“Why does life have to ache?” Life was painful. It was exhausting. There were many things left unsaid. Things Nathan could have done, words she wanted him to have heard. Their moment had blossomed and grown mature as a fruit does. It had also turned rotten for no one had chosen to pick the fruit up. No one had been brave enough to taste it, and that fruit’s flavor would never be felt. It would never have a second chance to be as sweet as it could have been. Maybe some fruits are meant to rotten. Maybe it is their fate. All that was left now was the memory of something that could have been sweet to taste.
The fruit that is not chosen cannot complete its life circle. It dies from its rejection, it fails. Could a rotten fruit’s seed give life to a healthy one? Was love as fragile and ephemeral as she thought? All people were trees with invisible scars on them. A question that was constantly in her mind was if her name had been written on anyone as painfully as Nathan’s inscription had been to her. Did Nathan himself think of her?
Life was aching. Trees grow taller but cannot escape their roots. She was a prisoner. All people were.