ORIGINS: The eyes of the second jackal made us think of downcast beggars with their hands outstretched.
Do you think that I wanted to become a beggar? That I ever wanted to hold out my hands like this? My skin doesn’t remember human warmth anymore. Only the dismissive touch of cold coins. And I don’t know who to blame, not anymore. All I have now, all I am now is anger and coins. But once I held a snowflake in my hands. I was naive. I had dreams. And when that snowflake melted into my skin, I still had hope. I felt that warmth once. But it’s been too long and I don’t remember it anymore. It’s been erased. Without a trace. And I can’t say for sure if it was by my anger or by these coins.
What do you think I am begging for? It’s not spare change, nobody carries that around anymore, but you came very close. I can tell that Change is nigh, that the world won’t be the same tomorrow when I wake up, and I would like to be spared. I never managed to make my dream come true. I never held it in my hands, like you would hold a newborn child. Hope made flesh and blood. Warmth. So much warmth, that for a moment it seems as if it would cleanse all the awful things you have done in your life. My dream stayed in my eyes. But I don’t want to stay here. Just another broken nothing among all the rubble. I would like to die holding my dream in my arms, with warmth close to my heart, and that is what I am begging for.
What good does this wavy hair do if I am not the sea? I want my life back. I want to rewind and feel everything unfold again. And again. And again. But there are no waves. There is no crash. No tide. My hair just keeps growing, and Time flows away. Washing away all the memories that should keep me company and make everything worthwhile. Every heartbreak. Every betrayal. Every tear. Do I have to beg for those memories? To be allowed to keep them, after I have drifted apart from everything and everyone that once meant something to me. Do I really have to beg? How is that fair, when they were mine to begin with, and Time should never have been allowed to abscond with them?
I held out my hands, I lowered my gaze. I even dragged my spine along, to trap my heart, and prevent it from flying back to the sky. There was nothing I wanted more than your love, and I was willing to beg. You wanted proof that I wouldn’t go back on my word. So, I ripped my bird’s wings out. I even ripped its tongue out, to let you know that my heart wouldn’t sing for anyone but you. I handed everything to you, with my gaze still on the ground. With blood dripping down, I begged one more time. And only then did you tell me that you loved me. I put those words where my bird used to beat its wings, and every day I tell myself that they are everything I hoped they would be. To prevent that hollow from swallowing what’s left of me whole.
I begged, and this is the coin you threw away. I guess I don’t have to ask what you think about me. But I wouldn’t wish hope on my worst enemy. At some point I would show mercy and put an end to their misery.
Thank you, you don’t know how much I appreciate the kindness you have shown by throwing this coin to me. You might think it worthless; you might have no use for something that has passed through so many hands, but I believe that love is what connects us. I have spent too much time being just another lonely star in the night, and you probably don’t know how much that hurts. But this coin is my chance to be part of a constellation. And even if all the other dots are nothing more than dead light by now, thanks to you I have all I need to lie to myself and make everything hurt a little bit less.
Have you ever heard that charity begins at home? Well, your definition of family and mine are not the same. I never asked you to throw coins into my hands. I wanted to be part of your life, but apparently that was too much to ask. It’s easier if I just hold out my hands and you don’t even spare me a glance. You get to feel better about yourself, and all the disappointment only blooms into rage within me.
Should I be grateful because you have spared a thought for me? Maybe you didn’t make me beg, but you made me cry. I was a child, I should have been pure sunshine. Light and warmth. All laughter and dreams. But you brought tears to my eyes, you doused everything I could have grown into. And now you throw this coin into my hands, because somehow you have grown a conscience and you would like to be forgiven? I’m sorry, but that’s not how it works.