Quien fue a Sevilla, perdió la silla.
The saying goes that absence leads to loss. But we like it because one cannot have everything in this life. To get a prettier chair, it seems appropriate to give up the old one. Because, if you don’t give anything up, how will the new chair know that you value it more than the old one? So, even though the saying tries to make us lament the loss of the chair we have left behind, we choose to focus on the happiness the new chair promises us. Because we aren’t playing musical chairs. It’s not written anywhere that we are bound to run out of chairs. So, we choose to believe that this world abounds with promises and opportunities.
Once upon a time there was a girl sitting on a chair. The girl was afraid of leaving her chair, she was afraid of losing it. Because when she was young she played musical chairs, and she is still sitting on the chair that made her a victor.
The girl still remembers that game. She remembers how the chairs disappeared one by one. And her friends along with them. She remembers finding herself alone, sitting on the last chair. She remembers losing all her friends, and that is why she clings to the chair of her victory.
Because that game taught her that Life is a succession of losses. And she is convinced that there are no other chairs left in the world. That there is no one else she could call a friend out there.
I won. I won. I won… But I don’t like the color of victory. Like a red carnation, I should feel alive. Happiness coursing through my veins. But it doesn’t sound like a song. It’s a murmur. Far away voices. Bled-out red. This victory feels like a loss. I miss having someone in my life. And I just wish there could have been a way to share this last chair.
I feel like crying in rivulets. The frilly edges of red carnation petals. I imagine my heart coming undone, one petal at a time, and falling from my eyes. Red rivulets flowing into my mouth. Cries that taste like blood. Loneliness is so much worse when you didn’t start your life alone. When you remember friends, laughter and songs. More than a dozen chairs. A withering flower. Your world becoming smaller by the minute. And then the song comes to an end. There is only one chair. And you feel like crying, because loneliness has seeped into your very bones, and you can’t bring yourself to dance anymore.
I lost a friend when the song came to an end. That’s not exactly true. There were more than a dozen chairs, but only one of those friends meant the world to me. I won. And I don’t know why green is said to be the color of jealousy. The monster I saw in her eyes wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t innocent like a first leaf. The hope I saw blooming in her eyes was carnation red. It was alive. I felt its thirst in my blood. And I wish I had lost. I wish red was the color of my eyes. Because at least those tears wouldn’t hurt as much as this loneliness does.
I should be grateful. I know that I should. Losing hurts. The tears that stem from loss are the worst, and I did my best to win. I compromised myself. I became ugly. Because they didn’t lie to me. The truth was written in the red carnations of our dance all along. Blood. Victory has a cost. Flowers wither away. Look at those frills. Ugliness is part of life. And they told me that at least I should get something out of it. So, I should be grateful. I know that I should. Because I won. And my worst tears were nipped in the bud. They were.