From Liquid to Noise

Do you know what noise looks like in photography? If you do, you understand what all the cars that were passing by me felt like. I would describe it like this, because I was walking back home, after a day that felt even worse than noise. It felt like a liquid distortion. I unlocked the door, got my shoes off, and went to my small balcony to smoke a cigarette. Or two. There were two: why am I lying to you... It must be because I am so used to lying to myself. I added a glass of sweet liquor to the two cigarettes. It was 3 pm and there I was, smoking and drinking in desperate need of editing my own mind. From liquid to noise. From noise to a clear image. A wave of calm flooded me, I felt my whole nervous system breathing again, in the safety of my own environment, with no one to judge me, no one to expect something from me, and no one to make me feel awkward for the way I behaved or what I said. I was finally just being the real me for the first time on this particular day and, boy, what a joy it was! It's moments like this one in which I fully comprehend why people become addicted to alcohol, drugs, and such. It's just so easy. Working on yourself requires so much more effort, so much more frustration and there are so many times in which that hidden pain jumps up like a naughty kid and scares you from around the corner. Most of the time, it's so much of it that you actually stop breathing for a second. Or a minute. Maybe weeks. Until you figure out that you are dying and start doing something about it. Because nobody else will. It's your own demons you have to fight and honestly... friends or family can't help you with that, no matter what experts say. Because in order to be helped, you have to let people help you. I think that's the hardest part and that is the step that usually each individual has to take on his own. It was a beautiful day in October and I was admiring the sun's rays that hit the apartment building across the street. I was pointing north, so that was the only light source I had. As I gazed, each window seemed to be just a screen on which people's lives were unfolding. What dreams did they chase, what secrets did they hold, and what battles did they fight in the private theater of their lives? Or are we just animals trapped inside expensive cages with bars that hold our dreams and hopes far away from happening? There were no clouds in the sky, but plenty of them inside my mind. By intoxicating my body, though, those clouds were fading away, leaving only myself in the picture. I felt raw, naked, pure, and closer to God. More than I ever did in the church that day. How ironic is that? As I was sitting on the balcony, on my black folding chair, my body started to feel very heavy. It was like a huge anchor made of lead on the bottom of an ocean with the sole purpose of not letting me leave this world. I went to the other room, covered myself with a blanket, and lay in bed, waiting to connect. I'd had enough of the human world, it was time for my spirit to wander free. Are you there? I miss you so much. There was no reply. My body was trying to smack me in the head with the pain of the silence around me, but everything was just numb. I knew I'd cry my eyes out in other circumstances, but the liquor let me have a pass this time. It was such a wonderful experience.. to know how much it would hurt, but at the same time not letting my human body take over. I was in control. I was holding my body hostage. I was holding my humanity hostage. Hold, please! Let me, just for one moment, not feel all these emotions and strip myself of this environment that I chose when I was born. Ah, better... They will be immortal as long as they are remembered. But who will talk about all the stories? All that we went through? I don't think I'll ever have kids that can keep them alive. That can keep me alive too. I have to write about them. I have to write about myself too. No one will ever remember me. I have to... It was 5.17 PM when I woke up and the effect of the liquor I drank was gone, but I knew what I had to do next: start writing.