Just as he finished saying ‘don’t worry, you’re centered and at home’, I pulled my head back and my entire body retracted from him. I sank deeper into my thoughts as the feelings of peace and stillness dissipated into nothingness. Suddenly I found myself stretched out, standing between the gaps of my past projections and the unpaved road to the future. That abyss in the human mind where trust and optimism are the permanent absentees.
While standing in the midst of this gap I added an amendment to the original declaration of love’s center. I told him, there’s been times I thought I was centered when I wasn’t. My string was being pulled to its maximum tension-point and I mistook this static feeling for being centered. I should have known when I felt thinned out and pulled apart. The day he released the string from between his fingers I felt a tremor that far exceeded any havoc or distortion known to me. For this, I am always doubtful as to whether my string is being pulled or it has really come to a standstill. Sometimes it’s hard to know the difference between being centered in love and the margins of a self-serving pull by another.
When I finished the last word of that sentence there was nothing more to say. In that awkward silence all I wanted was a cigaret, a book to read or a cup of coffee to drink – alone.
