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Longer short story
                                or a Red Light in Space-Time 

03.22



I bumped into you again today. Or it was again an unconscious choice made, like how I got drawn to him because somewhere in there something about him reminded me of her. Later on he fell in love with her too. It wasn’t an out-of-the-blue whatever natural disaster, my shrink had said. I had chosen him. I had chosen this. And what becomes more clear to me, thank God, is occurences are what you make them to be. My perception is cooperating with me. 
So when I saw you with her today waiting at the red light on my way back from the dunes (because that’s what I do now, going to the dunes and seeing the sea - who knows maybe to get away from this all or for a better night’s sleep), I stopped. I even asked my mom who was in my ears at the other end of the line to stop talking for a second, to absorb the moment and to quickly grasp what to be done in the face of this image. The image of you and her, finally physically together and not only conceptually in my head. What did I have to do with this image, when only a few days ago he had broken me the rather apocalyptic, ending, cathartic news on him having fallen in love with a darling, whom I hadn’t seen in six months but for whom I have managed to keep my soft spot at my own expense and decency; when after I had found myself in such a triangle with new and old demons; when in my ears my mother was finishing her story about how she finally got liberated from her darling after a year and maybe even longer. There was a lot of mirroring happening since I had left the dunes. Smiling, rushing words to my mother on the phone, feeling liberated as she narrated her own. There was a lot of mirrroing happening. A lot of images circulating one after the other, though all conceptual, many hypothetical, until this real image in the real world came. This image of you and her before my eyes. This one could not have been an unconscious choice. I didn’t choose to see you, or this image, what I chose was to bike to the dunes for a long walk with the sun to gather my senses. But the choice part came to me only after the image. Only after when the light turned green and I stormed past between the two of you, signaling with my hand to the right while telling my mom she could keep on talking now. And I did not want to see the image of where you two were headed. The image I wanted to create was me cycling past, having enough strength to expose myself from the back, and of course thinking if you had recognized me, if I would be performing then an image you had to see, if you had ever even seen me, if at all, and maybe not. A small dose of adrenaline is still running through my body. And I know better now, I want to say, for what to do with this image. Here is the choice part unfolding: 
I open my hands and turn my head towards God and ask why, why today, why me, why this, why all of this, my God. I ask that regardless. But instead of following the image to a bottomless pitch dark pit, I chose to see it as a bittersweet test for my triggering, for whether it would be myself that I would abandon.
I chose to abandon the image. I chose to abandon the plotting, the speculating, the what-would-you-make-out-of-this this crazy-bitch-what-is-she-doing-here. I chose to stay intact and to make some peace out of it. Stretch.
I chose to cycle past, knowing that a similar image to this and those many more intimate have occured when I wasn’t even looking. Spare me a minute writer, I’m dealing with some real demons here.
I choose to take it as a blink from above as a byproduct of my big words I just said to my mother earlier about how the fear is gone, how I can take you in now minus the impatience and the hatred. But did I really take in this image from a place of knowing, knowing you were once there when I wasn’t ready and then you were long gone, knowing you never were and will be mine, knowing that regardless of the physical reality of the image it had happened somewhere in the space-time only for me to see it and carry on.
I’d like to believe so. I assing so. A way to keep the faith within. And again I’ve been coming back to this in the last few days after loosing all of you, that you only become what they needed you to be, what you essentially wanted to be for yourself, only after things are over. Only once they are gone. The learning follows the test and the embodiment follows the body. And if it helps me to stay intact, I’d like to believe that I achieved it. I achieved to perform or even better to become the highest potential I saw through all of you, inthrough and for myself. Just like how he once wrote that he’d like to think that I like him. And I did, truly. But I was recovering holding on to branches for my healing until this last one wasn’t true enough to carry me or any of this. Right motivation, wrong timing.
As for the image, I left it at the red light, knowing that you had now more real giggles in your life, I saw it with my eyes, I’m glad baby. And all my other babies dears and darlings, I am asking from myself forgiveness and a deepest understanding for why things and images had to happen the way they did. I was at my best and one could say I am at my better now. I am choosing my own choice of belief.
And so I open my hands and turn my head towards God for it to keep going on like this. For the value and the interest rate to increase exponentially. Accordingly, contextually, physically, conceptually, rightfully, undoubtedly, peacefully, instinctually, contingently, implicitly, gently. And silently, ever so silently.