BENDING LIFE... without consternation

I turn up the music loudly... I don't want to hear when the next text message arrives... when the announcing bell rings in my ears... I don't know what to do... utter disorientation, internal tremors, intravenous glucose through my mouth... the bell... like a break, like a telephone, like a funeral or a clock... time flies, I'm scared... I don't know what she's doing on the other end of the phone... whether she's bleeding out, getting drunk, or proclaiming victory to the world over the toilet, with those two fingers nervously echoing her soul. I don't know what she's doing there, and I don't know what to do either! God, if you exist... I get more messages, ring after ring, lightning fast, I turn up the volume... I don't want to hear, I don't want to have control over human life in my fingers... this sound pulsates in the air like a defenseless child being slaughtered... it tears my senses apart, it's hard for me to identify anything I'm experiencing! How scared I am, my stomach starts to hurt. I go down to the kitchen to eat some cookies. The desired glucose in sucrose, make intercourse with me, carnally, become real... enter my veins, flow, stop time... my fingers tremble, I breathe in short, ragged breaths, as if I were running away from someone, I can't catch my breath... I hear a bell from downstairs, another message... I run up the stairs, grab the phone... I read greedily, thinking to myself – he's still alive... then more regrets, reproaches, words fly... I wonder how it's possible that so much bitterness can penetrate via satellite... I can't breathe, my system isn't reproductive at all, but the one that supplies oxygen, inefficient! I escape... to the other room... something has come again, or rather, it hasn't even come, it's dragged itself on my physically destroyed, intangible body. A weakling has crept up, perched on the edge, wanting to jump from this edge of the psyche. She looks at me and asks if it will hurt, what it's like to fly, how to spread her wings for the first and last time. She stares at me with bulimic eyes, as if she wants to reclaim all of existence and hatred and rise, liberate herself... she's not made for the mundane, and the problematic facts have by no means provided her with favorable conditions for metaphysical relations.

Another, another, another message... she notes with her eyes, trying to process it. The broken words fly one after another, I can't keep up with reading, I'm trying to understand! This whole thing isn't logical, I don't know what's going on... God... if you are... why do I have to be a shelter for the homeless?!?!, these human remains fall into me, and I gradually try to put them back together, explaining that their place is here and here, that they should do this and that, that this and that will be necessary... I throw away all these torn-off hands and clumsily try to season them, attach them with the saliva from my tongue...

Snippets of words reach me, every moment, more and more of them, multiplying like white lab mice! They crawl over my body with shivers, I breathe heavily as if after some intellectual marathon. I don't understand!!! I visualize her crying on the phone, as if some structure of hardness has broken within her. These alphabetical fragments flow to me, like uncontrollable sobbing... I don't know what's going on... I reply every few moments, but she forestalls me. The valves have released, the tear ducts are open!

She looks at me with that dull gaze, those dark circles under her eyes screaming on her face like scars. Another sleepless night! Another medication taken for a sleepless night! She wants to block everything that entered her so freely and stifle it. To realize death through her gut! Blue eyes, earthly pallor, frailty made real by those retchings... she quietly, barely audibly mumbles under her breath that she feels pity for him... she stares into the edge of the abyss... I remember her saying that while riding her bike, she closed her eyes, wanting to free herself from those internal sins that scraped and degraded her. She wanted to fly... and indeed, she flew into a ditch, because at the right moment, a boy riding behind her pushed her there, thus saving her from an oncoming car... and then she awoke and, with regret and depressing calm, announced to him, "Let's go, nothing happened." And he, poor thing, didn't realize that his push had failed in his suicide attempt.

I still have fears, she'll drag her gaze, hoping that her gaze would meet the gaze of perfect love and that it would be fixed there forever. She wanders around, catches my eye, and starts talking about sainthood again. I run to the kitchen again for caffeine, swearing I'll force a lethal dose into my mouth, because the tension is tearing me apart, I'm falling apart.

The doorbell rings... and here I learn from her that she wasn't a saint, that she has it on her conscience, that I'll probably despise her. I do a quick reckoning... I write that I have it on my conscience too, that perfection isn't my motto, that there are dark corners no one knows about until they're discovered and then despised. Her pains flow to me, attacking me, bringing me to my knees. How is it possible that in 15 minutes, 30 messages disarm me, that my eyes are bulging, and I don't know what the hell to do? I call her, she doesn't answer, she writes that she's not at home. She texts again, our minds racing... I write that I don't understand. She says it's best to forget. Sentences forcibly taken out of context, I try like a madwoman to sort them out, to infuse them with meaning... I realize it's because of all the prime things, the uncountable things, divisible by one and itself.

She wants to lynch me, she's slapping me in the face, as if she wants all her anger to come out... physically come out and destroy her in an explosion... I write to her, she doesn't reply... now I don't know at all, I don't want to mess around in private, to make keys for someone else's lock...

I'm scared, I'm still breathing uncertainly, adrenaline is driving me to stay on my feet. I want to fall... someone else's life is too much for me, so I pass her in the hallways, give her a quick hello, and run. But she chases me with those eyes, wants to throw her existence on my shoulders, wants me to grab her by the wing before jumping off the edge.

I wait, maybe she'll call, maybe she'll announce it to everyone behind four walls. She's here!

Finally, she tells me someone performed an autopsy on her, learned anatomy on her.