Размышления в тему и без. Армине Аракян

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СКАЧАТЬ she woke up in the nights as if pushed by someone. She knew she woke up because he had been thinking of her in his sleep or because he was in some kind of distress and just called her name in the dark. She was getting mad? Perhaps. There is no way she could check it, because she stopped realizing what is mad and what is normal. She had to follow her heart and her heart was misleading her. It was so misleading that she was running away from her heart insanely. She had to. Otherwise she would never stop waking up at nights, smelling him, seeing him, feeling the warm and damp air around her, the smell of breeze, only because of the vicinity of the sea. He hated sea. Why? Because he hated everything that was always near….she wanted to be always near, and he hated her for that. He knew that proximity kills the feeling. But distance kills the heart. It was assassinating her soul day by day, night after night. She craved for salvation. She knew it would not come, but she still prayed that one day she would stop feeling her heart. That one day she would stop dreaming of impossible. Dreaming of him, who was happy all by himself. Who was looking for someone who is also happy by herself. She was not that one. She wanted to see him in the mirror of her soul as she always did. She knew that he will never do it. Because it is scary when you look at someone and see your own self. It is scary but it is everyone’s dream. She was scared because her that dream came true. She met him. And he met her. And she did the biggest mistake in her life. She let him look into her eyes… and he looked. She had only one hope: SHE ALSO LOOKED BACK! That is the reflection which will stay forever. For both of them.

      So this is how it works…

      I’ve been wondering what happens to love in universe? The theory says that all our thoughts and words are materialized. So the question is – where goes all the love inside me? Which planet it feeds? What it transforms into? Why I cannot see what happens to my years and years and years dedicated to loving the life? Probably this is the response to the question – what is life? Probably life is granted to you because of someone else’s love? Just this way – my love has granted life to some of creatures on this planet… The saying goes God is love. So our love is the Creator? so our love is responsible for what we see around? People hate now more than they love and hence so many people die for nothing… We all have that duty on this planet. To love. This is the source of continuity in everything. The day we all stop loving, the Earth will come to end. My darling… u say you do not believe in love. You are confessing to me that you do not believe in God… Because Love is god, and god is Love:) I have not seen my love materialize in universe but I have reasons to believe that it goes a long way and finds its way to new life. This is the true connection with the universe. This is the true way of doing the right thing. Just be responsible for what you feel. And feel what is to be felt without remorse. It is a gift to you. Indeed you are so largely endowed with this gift…

      Living passion

      Have you ever felt this overpowering, inhuman, breathtaking passion raising in you? Can you imagine yourself sitting in a small room with your beloved one without any hint to intimacy, and yet feel how the inner you opens its eyes and looks into his eyes through yours. May be it is then that the electricity paralyzes you entirely and you can hear your body breathing, your heart beating, your eyes looking nowhere near him, but clearly seeing him in front of you? Have you sensed the inevitable? It happens when your inner self depicts clearly the picture of the following few hours to your subconscious. You see with clarity the tide of passion swiping you away and actually feel what is happening to you. This is probably the true moment of connection with universe when the grateful universe wishing to thank you for the ability to FEEL allows you to see what will happen NOW. Have you felt how the torrent emerging from your entire personality electrifies him and he is sitting there waiting for you to take full power over his emotions? Have you ever felt how you gradually fill him with yourself, to the brink, and it is THEN that you see yourself in his eyes and you know that the magic is there. The magic of conversation of souls. The magic of energy and impulse. Have you not always dreamed of this feeling? The feeling of living passion? The feeling of yielding in all your powers in order to become as strong as the universe itself? I love this feeling. I LIVE this feeling. I dream of dying with this feeling. This is all that matters. This is all that remains. This is all that is true. Everything else is derivative. Everything else is «because of» not «for». Some people are lucky to know the reason. I am HAPPY to know the way. I love this life.

      inter alia

      What a strange weekend… I’ve been watching movie after movie till my eyes hurt enough to remind me of Visine and of the need to switch it off and go to sleep. I was watching movies which I never watched before. Movies which aroused nothing but disgust before. But now they aroused nothing in me. I watched Cargo 200, perhaps the blackest movie I have ever watched. I watched Morphine… another hopeless story which proves the senselessness and vanity and needlessness of all our efforts to pretend that we are better than we are in reality… Why those movies did not touch me today? I was watching bloody scenes, not visual graphics like in horror films, but really bloody scenes of amputation, of real living maniac doing god knows what… I was watching it without blinking an eye, without even holding breath… NO, please, the movies were PERFECT! Balabanov is one of the best movie-makers of the world, perhaps equal to Tarantino in his grotesqueness. This is not what matters. The matter is with me. I am scared of it. This is the indifference. The self-destroying indifference towards everything happening. As if it all happens to someone else, not me. The reluctance to move, to speak, to act, to learn, to smile. Getting back to the state of trance, waiting the end to come. Waiting the last day as a solace. Starting to cry, but holding back tears, as if ashamed of my own momentary weakness. Waking up, hoping for the end of the day. Going to work, hoping for the time to run home and get shut down in the safety of my own bedroom. Psychologists would give this syndrome some clever name. I do not care how it is called. I do not even care how it is felt. I do not care if it will end or not. I do not want to know where it started and why. I am not angry. I am not sad. I am not happy. I am not grieved. I am not. I AM not. Running from myself somewhere! But myself is chasing me, clinging to me, not letting me go, not letting me escape. Oh yes. And I did not listen to music today. Nor did I yesterday. And the day before yesterday. Three days without music. And with Balabanov. Can we call this a punishment of some kind? I think we could. Myself is chasing me non-stop… Myself is cruel. Myself hates me and wants to hurt me. And the one who can save me is very far away, busy acting himself out. Acting so talentlessly, so miserably that I hate myself for letting him in. He does not let me go. He holds me. His silence is chasing me together with myself. I have two enemies: Myself and his misery. We are so similar to each other in our chase. I almost let him catch me. I almost did that – but he did not believe me. He will never believe that I was in his hands, with myself. With the best in me. Such a strange weekend it was. A strange weekend with strange impressions and strange visions. A horrible runaway from myself. It hurts so much. When will you come and take this pain away? I am waiting. I know I must wait. I know you are there and you do not let me go. Do not cry. You are crying my tears away too.

      For no reason

      I woke up with the sense of its being over. The door to green and intimidatingly beautiful night when the stars were so near while we were sitting on a rocking chair, is closed. The door to my heart-room where I store all our small secrets. Nobody knows about them. Nobody knows that you exist. I never enjoyed keeping this a secret as much as now. It is so much mine that sharing it with anyone destroys a piece of it. I will store our every secret in my heart-room, but will not be able to give it back to you. So forget about them all. Live on. Live on the way you can. Live on without me in your eyes. Without my hands on your pulse. Without your eyes on me. Stop keeping them on me. I do not want to feel them any more. They are false. The falsehood is in your every word and move and effort. Do not need to know anything. I have enough to keep myself going till the end of my СКАЧАТЬ