Escape Artists

I balance myself high up on a wire that i spun over the life that I‘ve just recently figured was full of fear. Desperately trying to hold onto the little breaths i kept hidden in my lungs, while i took a stroll into the night everyone told me to become a part of.

I am made of about 6 litres of blood, some bones, flesh and a brain, that oftentimes interferes with my heart that‘s beating just a tad too fast. My daily dosis of antidepressants is high enough to keep my self-loathing in a cage, but too low to let me put a straight smile up on my face. My past keeps revisiting my thoughts, thus my future is an unstable construct of high hopes and even higher falls. I am 50 percent self-proclaimed fear, 30 percent that „helpful friend“ and the rest of the time i keep telling myself that i‘m not good enough for anything or anyone.

But i‘m not alone in this, we are am army of escape artists out in this world, yet we remain silent so noone blows our covers. Cover us with oil as we slip out of any given situation, we are the black sheep, overseen by society, we keep our secrets hidden and our porcelain hearts locked in our chests. So even if you get to take a glimpse, it‘s just a matter of time until we admit that knowing us is a mistake.

We are trapped inside a mindset that keeps on giving us reasons not to stay somewhere for a longer period of time; give us love and we tell cupid to shut up and not waste any more arrows on something we are not ready for, never was, possibly never will be. We put on armors of past mistakes as if we need a reason to run for cover.

We write thank you letters to past relationships in our nicest handwriting, thanking you for the time spent, for the hours you witnessed a downfall, with a golden – yet meaningful – message that reads like a loveletter from your greatest fears, as you once were this person who had control over me. And i held my little breaths, until i snapped and it bursted out – the moments where nothing but my voice and your face existed. And i was sitting there, but all these words were meaningless since you did not even show up, not even in my thoughts, not even in my dreams.

And then my phone rang, your breathing was easily distinguishable from all the other noise these ears have ever heard, as i used to listen to it for way too many silent hours where we didn‘t speak a word. Unlike this call, where i grasped the last few words i wish i would ever have heard of you.

„I miss you, please don‘t leave me, promise you won‘t leave me.“

But then i woke up – not from a dream, but from reality – and i couldn‘t cry for the sake of it. If there was ever a tear coming out of these eyes, i will dedicate them to you. They will carry your name. For as I am going to remember each and every minute we spent. Each one in vain.

And yes, I would‘ve said that I really really do miss you, too. I miss the feeling of being around you, i miss each and every broken thought that rooted in any of your words. And I miss feeling exchangable, i miss that i cared too much, i even miss being the wreck i was, because after you, i just wasn‘t able to miss anything anymore.

But even if we‘d meet again i know, i just know, know know that i‘d giggle like the little boy i always was when our eyes met. I‘d stutter in the tiniest of notes, in my most fragile tones, like you‘re the vacuum that sucks in any confidence that was still left in me. And i wonder if this ever ends, and i bend myself backwards thinking i don‘t think about it that much anymore. I will tell myself that i don‘t need you, i don‘t need you, don‘t need you, need you, need you. I need you, I need you to tell me that there was never anything worth waiting for. I need you to tell me that this self-proclaimed suffocation never stood for anything good. I need you to get a grip and finally leave this head, because even though i left you, you never left me.