aga6

II.

She again didn't know what to do with herself. There were still a good few hours left until afternoon, no one was at the wall yet, and nothing else came to mind. A mutt was wandering the street—just like her, aimless, unsure where he wanted to go. While it was still summer break, she wanted to relax, to feel the freedom she'd had as a child again. But could people still be free? Enslaved by success, driven by money. Free? Ridiculous.... She chose the park. She never did what others did, and now she didn't sit on a bench in the very center of the park, but chose a spot on the outskirts, perched on the railing by the bridge. What uncultured youth... You can't even walk peacefully through the park because it's full of people. You can't sit down normally, you just have to destroy everything.... At least people would have something to talk about. Normal. She liked to watch people, and the place she'd chosen was perfect for it. She saw people strolling in the park, those returning from the city, lovers walking hand in hand. Holding hands, cuddling, silent, wonderfully silent... She took particular delight in gazing into the faces of passersby. She could see in them not only the eyes or the beautifully shaped lips, but above all, sadness, joy, pain, suffering. Eyes are the mirror of the soul. Everything is visible there. When we lie, we avoid another person's gaze. Eyes say everything. And sometimes they can say too much. It's just that we don't want to see anything there. Because we might find we've seen too much. In the friends next to the wall, she saw large, often glassy eyes that often no longer expressed anything. And then there were the eyes of those who appeared for the first time—innocent, yet also curious. Although they were so different, each eye from the wall expressed a lack of love, a longing. A longing, not necessarily for another plot of land—for a love they couldn't find anywhere. She knew what they longed for, she knew what she longed for. And though each of them tried to hide this feeling deep within themselves, nothing worked. Because the desire for love isn't something you can hide. Hidden, it hurts too much. You can only pretend it's gone. Even though deep inside, it reminds you of yourself with a loud cry. And that hurts. Like hell... Because a fix can often be replaced by a dose of love, but that stuff is expensive. More expensive than the most expensive drugs. Not for them. Love is a stuff only for the chosen few...

Aga looked around again. A center for the disabled... She saw everyone avoiding it, often forgoing the sidewalk. As long as it wasn't too close. It wasn't very aesthetically pleasing. Or maybe it was contagious? No. Stupidity isn't contagious; they have nothing to fear. Because you're the ones who are stupid.

Those with disabilities. Are they happy? Unaware of their own existence, irresponsible for their own actions. Is this happiness? She didn't know... She didn't know if she wanted to change. No, not really. The same feeling of emptiness, loneliness, without the ability to fight for love. She could at least fight. For love, for herself, for what she considered valuable. Fight to the last drop of strength, to the last tear. To the last breath, without much hope of victory. And yet, fight. Biting her lips in helplessness, just to keep from crying, yet still fight.

There was still no one at the wall. She looked further. Kindergarten. A caring teacher, picking up a boy who had fallen, wiping his tears, whispering words of comfort. Words of comfort. Normal? Not everyone can hear them. For the chosen few. For the decent ones. Not for those on the margins. From the margins, who created the normal ones themselves. What!? To make it look nice. In the face of evil, good is more obvious...

A caring mother who came to pick up her two little ones, the children clinging to their mother, longing for them... She looked away. It wasn't a sight for her. It hurt. It hurt like hell. But she was tough, she wouldn't admit it. To the fact that she was jealous, jealous of two small children clinging to a woman she didn't know. Yes... I wonder where her mother is now? Will she come back? When? In a week, a month, two days, maybe she'll show up right now to bring her home, or maybe never again? Like the lottery. You choose, and either you get it or you don't. Her mother usually didn't make it. Home. A matter of getting used to it. To loneliness. Besides, she wasn't alone; she had a family—everyone was a sister and brother in the shadows. The older ones mothered the younger ones, everyone could count on each other. Like in a real, large family. Because that's how it is in every family. There's always someone to lend a helping hand. Except that in a normal family there is no syringe of death in the hand.

At the other end of the park, a small commotion broke out—someone had arrived. She had good eyesight. Or maybe she simply knew her people. Someone new had appeared there. She jumped down from the railing. Even in their world, so different from the normal one, there were rules. And principles. Anyone who didn't follow them was out. He quickly left. He understood. She went to greet the newcomer. Even from a distance, she could see he was someone special. The designer clothes spoke for themselves. But she liked him immediately. She liked him because she looked into his eyes. She saw the same things she saw in the others: loneliness, lack of acceptance, and a search for love. Only now did she realize there were no boundaries between them, no matter who they were. They were searching for the same thing. She smiled. He was lost. He had everything: designer clothes, a cell phone—she'd always dreamed of it, but now, seeing him so sad, she didn't envy him at all. They paid instead of loving. That was all. That was all. She knew families like that. A beautiful house, a garden, sometimes a swimming pool, an expensive car, a sizable bank account, a father who was a director and a mother who was a businesswoman, a cell phone, designer clothes, and pockets full of cash. That was it. That was love. They care because they buy. She had nothing, she hadn't experienced the taste of real family, she had nothing to regret, because she knew nothing but wandering around her neighborhood. He had a house, a mother, a father, probably siblings, her own room. Everything seemed fine. But what mattered to them was the clothes. Not what they wore. She liked him and felt sorry for him. She decided she would be his guardian. Everyone got their own guardian from the start. This guardian introduced them step by step to the unreal world, the world of smoking weed. Shared highs. She approached him. She smiled. He understood. He understood that before him stood a girl just like him.

-Paweł.

-Aga.