ORIGINS: Lying is bad. This is not what we had in mind, but when the Brush speaks, it is only polite to listen. The skulls were there, in plain sight, and we skipped to the aftermath of the battle.
By the way, if you are wondering where the props came from, try taking a closer look at the graveyards.
You once told me that birds could fly because their bones were light. And I tried not to focus on the fact that they still had to alight every day. And when that didn’t work, I told myself to at least use a different word. One that wouldn’t remind me that everything that is good eventually goes bad. But I can’t help the way I feel. Even if I don’t put it into words, the scenery is still there, clear as day. You are gone. Your bones are in the ground. Everything that you were has rotted away. And I would like nothing more than to believe that the ground won’t keep you. That you turned into a bird, leaving your bones behind, and nothing will bring you back down. I would like nothing more than to believe that you will be flying in the endless darkness of space from now on. But I am a realist. You were the one that had all the hopeful words, and I am the one with my feet on the ground, where everything rots away.
I can’t make up my mind. This grief is like a wind that pushes me in a different direction every time there is a break in my tears. One moment I wish I could have buried your bones in an elephant graveyard, because I don’t want to forget a single word of who you were, of what you meant to me. But the next moment I have this overwhelming need. Everything in me screams. That I should unearth your bones, and rearrange them, until they resemble a caterpillar. Everything in me screams. The wind runs down my spine, and I know I should be afraid, but I need your hunger. I need you to devour my words, until the last leaf is gone from the branches and my bones are as bare as yours. But three tears later the wind wipes my eyes and I cover my mouth. To keep my teeth far, far away from you. Lest I devour you. Lest I forget you. And I have nowhere to return, the next time the wind changes my mind.
One day, when I woke up, I could no longer recognize myself. When I looked in the mirror, all I saw was an elephant. A graveyard. There were bones sticking out of my heart, out of my lungs and my back. I remembered all the things I loved when I was 6 years old, all the dreams I had when I was 12 and the betrayal that was turning 18. But I had no words to describe that elephant, not even after my tears were done falling and my vision cleared. All I could see were those regrets I carried like a disease. Things that were long dead. And I couldn’t find a trace of the thing that had to be keeping me alive. But it has to be there, somewhere, buried under all those bones. Or maybe in the grey of that elephant. It has to. Because I am still here. And the thought of meeting my replacement empty-handed, 6 years from now, hurts too much.
I wish words were as docile as bones, I wish they knew their place and stayed buried in the ground. In my heart. Even inside my mouth would do. Somewhere I wouldn’t have to hear them ever again. I would even take somewhere I could drown them out with a few heartbeats or a bite or two. But they keep breaking through. They keep haunting me, trying to reclaim this name that once belonged to them. This name that now should be mine, but doesn’t quite feel like it is. Because if it were, I certainly would have grown up by now.
I have lost everything, even my grief. My tears dried, before I had a chance to drown in them, leaving something unwanted behind. A magic I never asked for. My tears must have sparkled while I was being consumed by other thoughts. I don’t feel like resuming my life, it would take a stronger magic to accomplish that, but my tears sparkled and a pair of fairies answered their call. And now here they are, trying to run away with a piece of my heart. I don’t see their wings, but I can hear their laughter tinkling in my ears, saying that it’s for my own good. That if I let it, that hamster would eat me alive. But that was precisely what I wanted. My heart tried to give me what my tears couldn’t. A chance to feel, until the very end. But magic has never honored anyone’s wishes, and I know that I won’t be able to stop those fairies, because nothingness has already taken the place of that hamster, and it won’t be long before it spreads.
I know that this is goodbye, but I can’t bring myself to kiss my elephant on the cheek. Soon I will forget most things, I will move on, but I don’t want my elephant to disappear. Not like dust scattered to the four winds. Never like that. I want to kiss my elephant on the forehead, where I would kiss him if I were wishing him sweet dreams. This goodbye has to be a charm. It has to keep him safe. Whole. Because we shared a life. And it’s already bad enough that we have to part ways. That our heart has broken in half, and the little shards inside my chest have already started to make me bleed. I have to believe that at least one half will remain intact, if I want to have a hope of ever putting those shards back together and teaching what is left of my heart to beat once again.
You told me that you never wanted to become a burden. You told me to let you go. That if I loved you, I wouldn’t wait until dirt touched your cold skin. You wanted me to promise you that as soon as your bones started to show, I would try my best to forget you and move on. And if you had been anyone else, maybe I would have given you my word. But you were there. Maybe not every step of the way. But certainly during the ones that defined me. I wouldn’t have become who I am today if you hadn’t been there. Your love didn’t shape me. But if I erased every conversation we had, everything you did for me and everything I did for you, my life wouldn’t make sense anymore. I wouldn’t recognize myself. The thought of losing you already felt like more than I could endure. I couldn’t lose myself too. And I paid the price. In the end, you were the one that didn’t recognize me. You saw me as an elephant, with a heavy burden of bones on my back, that wouldn’t let me take even one more step. But, to me, you will always be the footprints that are behind me. The ones that are beside mine, and keep me from losing myself.
I wish I knew how to run for my life. But I am not a lizard, and my bones don’t seem to have been programmed for self-preservation. Sadly, shedding tears is not the same as shedding a tail. Even when I am done crying, when my eyes are dry and I feel drained, I am still trapped. Some part of me should have prevented this sadness from taking my name for itself. But my bones seem perfectly happy with their new master, and I always knew that it would be unrealistic to expect loyalty from words.
Left Graveyard: I am sorry, my precious, but the birds are the only ones that are allowed to leave. Back you go, but don’t be sad, I will tuck you in and even kiss you goodnight.
Right Graveyard: Do you ever feel bad for them?
Left Graveyard: My skeletons? No. I reserve my pity for those birds that will never find what they are looking for. They can’t accept that the sky is empty and always will be. They think that they just haven’t flown far enough. That if only they fly farther than the color blue, they will find the perfect fit for their emptiness. But you and I know that only more emptiness awaits them out there. They just refuse to see that darkness for what it really is.
Right Graveyard: Can you really blame them? They were born with wings, I am sure that they couldn’t help having dreams. Not even when they closed their eyes. Sleep was there, as dark and seemingly as endless with promise as outer space, encouraging them to pursue those dreams.
Left Graveyard: That is why I pity them and not my skeletons. My darlings had a life. The darkness where they are buried is full of memories, of things that actually happened, and is still solid enough to fill the hollows where their eyes used to be.
Left Graveyard: Do I look like a pond?
Right Graveyard: What a silly question. You look like a graveyard, just like I do.
Left Graveyard: But elephants don’t flock to you. They don’t come to you to unload their burdens. I don’t mind the bones, I know that that is what I am here for. But I really hate the memories. All those regrets. Why do they think that I will keep them alive? I am not here to remember anybody else’s life. My job is just to keep the bones out of sight, so that the living can live their lives.
Right Graveyard: Do you want them gone?
Left Graveyard: Yes, please.
Right Graveyard: I can’t do anything about the elephants, but I may know how to get rid of those memories. I will rearrange a few bones. See? We already have a caterpillar, and soon it will turn into a butterfly. She will flutter away, and I promise you that all those ghosts will want to follow wherever she leads.
Left Graveyard: Are you sure?
Right Graveyard: Yes, I am. Because white is the color of regrets, and washed-out creatures only have eyes for the colors they have lost. It will either be love or hate at first sight, but I promise you that they will follow our butterfly.
Left Graveyard: See you later.
Right Graveyard: You know that you are a graveyard and not an elephant, don’t you? You don’t owe those bones anything. They had a life. They died. End of the journey. If they still want to do some sightseeing, that is what memories are for.
Left Graveyard: Don’t be like that. Anyway, this journey is not for them. You know that no one is selfless in this world. Even the Ground doesn’t welcome corpses into her embrace out of the goodness of her heart. She lets them rot because she has a use for them, and so do I. I want to know what these bones saw in the world. What they fell in love with and why.
Right Graveyard: And what good will that do you? You are the end. Even if the Ground doesn’t keep things apart, your lines are clearly drawn and so are mine. We will never be allowed to be a beginning. And even if you somehow manage to understand love, you won’t be able to go anywhere from there.
Left Graveyard: I feel like being free. I have decided to scatter all these bones to the winds, and just dance for a while.
Right Graveyard: You know that they won’t stay in the air, don’t you? That they will eventually fall back to the ground.
Left Graveyard: Sure. I know that. But it won’t be my problem anymore. I don’t need a storm, not even a gust. Even the gentlest breeze will be more than enough to carry these bones away from me. Let them fall wherever fate sees fit. By then I will already be dancing, and nothing and no one will stop me.
Left Graveyard: And the saddest thing is that you still believe that there is gentleness left in this world.