RED CHERRY FIRE
(Original Image by Daniel Monteiro)
I put my own head in the noose and jumped from the second-floor balcony as she lit another cigarette. My problem was that I loved too completely. Whether it be family or friends or complete strangers, there was a gravity within me that shaped me into exactly what they needed. Now, blood fell from my nose and eyes and ears, and my skin glowed purple under an indifferent moon. She had seen all that she needed to see. She had heard all that she needed to hear. She could now locate herself, crawl to the center of her being after a long drag and good night’s sleep. She knew what needed to be done to make things right, and I was happy to oblige.
I tensed my neck. I heard somewhere that doing so prolonged things, but I wasn't entirely sure. I just wanted a long enough view of her before my universe condensed into perfect singularity. I did it for her anyway. She had been suffering for some time since the divorce. She had often claimed she was responsible for her husband’s downward spiral, but, thankfully, I was there to show her that sometimes men just go crazy, especially when love (of any ilk) is involved. Funny, swinging there upon the Death Tree, losing oxygen, worried about pollen more than anything else, I thought I might pose for her to really hammer the point home. Perhaps Rodin's “The Thinker” or Munch's “The Scream.” I was swinging somewhere in between.
I watched that red cherry fire burning in the night, eyes adrift to the sky. She forgot to give me the edification that my life had been more than a stepping stone on her path to self-actualization. It's amazing how callous we become when we assume we're the main character of our story. It's amazing how we use people and let people use us just to feel that serotonin rush of acceptance and understanding.
It's a shame, as I swung back and forth, that I didn't realize how poorly written we all were. Big fish eat little fish. And people consume each other when it's most convenient for their growth. We are spiritual cannibals… no wonder the gods keep an arm's distance… no wonder our babies cry entering the world… no wonder it's taking so long for me to exit this world… I loved her too much to be honest. I didn't want her to sully herself with the inevitable choice. I didn't want her ravaged by guilt, raped by what-ifs. So, I took a drag off her end and jumped myself. We both agreed I had overstayed my welcome. It's one thing to be a twenty-something seeker, threading through the bourgeois cloth to weave some contrived enlightenment tapestry. It's another thing to recognize the trap from a distance and thrust into the absurd. Your identity is your prison, your mind is polluted by romance, and your soul is strangled by life on their terms. Best to jump alone and swing between this life and the next while the others light up and find themselves.
