It’s only fit that i open this blog with him.
I saw.
There were coffee stains, bikers and tight leather jackets. The girl had a tatoo, the man with the vacant eyes had to greet six people before sitting down, but i bet none of them really knew him.
I didn’t greet anyone but that was allright, since no one knew me either.
Couldn’t really help but think: dull weather. dull people. dull me.
The only things i felt were how bad the coffee was. how cold i was. how empty i, and everyone else were.
But that’s another kind of feeling.
We were all empty because we weren’t all really there.
Fake little robots, with conditioned brains, pre-determined actions, and complete ignorance, that’s what we were.
Awful little creatures, which strive to be unique. All of them are just as unique as everyone else.
And only one of us wasn’t blind.
Everyone else, the girl with the exhuberant smiles, the men talking about a silly old football match, the old man with the portraits, were fake.
I thought ‘you can’t take a portrait of someone and not notice them, now, can you?’… Wrong. He could. He did.
The drawing is smiling at me, in cheap charcoal lines. I don’t know that person… that couldn’t be me, i wasn’t even attempting a smile.
That lot was rotten blind from one end to the other.
One of us, however, was different.
At first, i only saw the way he moved, it seemed odd. It didn’t look rewinded. Then, i saw him smiling.
I remember wondering why the bartender was coming my way, though i hadn’t asked for anything. I found out.
He came my way because he saw a girl and a tear or two. And he braught along a box of chocolates.
No phone-numbers were exchanged, no idle romance, not many words. But it was, oh, so different.
I saw him there, and couldn’t believe it: not blind, not ignoring me. not only wanting to help, but there. A real person, really there. He wasn’t there because i asked him, he wasn’t there because he was scared i’d kill myself and spill blood all over the floors, he was just there.
Suddenly, i woke up in a real place. It was the same, only real. I didn’t feel like a shadow, i didn’t feel like i could pass through the floor,
it actually held up against my pushes. And i stopped thinking about the 50 pairs of eyes that ignored me, because of the one pair that didn’t.
I don’t know how to change things, i’m not as good as he. For all i know, that may have been the epitome of his existence. He may be dull, bland, a psychopath or a killer, he may be a real pessimist, or just as depressed and lonely as me, but he was my unlikely, unworthy, unexpected knight in shining armor.
And i’m thankful for every little detail of him.
Sergiu, this is to you, the only thanks i know how to give.
‘ Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone
Its not warm when she away
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone
This house just ain’t no home
Anytime she goes away’
