SHADOWS

A thick fog covers the ground, the houses and the bodies. Lost in the white mist, they look ghostly. They resemble shadows from an unreal, imaginary world. Only the deep red of the ripe rose hips shines through the fog and reminds us of its presence. It reminds us of the thorns, always ready to defend themselves against the shadows. Pain is what reminds us who we are.

The fog slowly rises from the ground, and the red rose hips conceal the blood flowing from the thorns. The shadows of the houses, the bodies and the souls exchange places, confusing meanings and values. They turn the immortality of the spirit into something difficult to attain. They turn love into a meaningless pursuit.

Because I want love, and you offer me security. You want love, and I offer you respect. I want you to be just, but you are afraid to stand on the side of truth. You want me to be honest with you, but I offer you courtesy. I want sincerity, and you offer me pretence. You want me to be independent and strong, and I offer you chains. I want your presence, and you offer me your body. You want to communicate with my soul, and I offer you my warm body. I want you to be compassionate towards me, but you offer me indifference. You want me to feel your pain, but I am too small to bear the pain of the whole universe. I want to experience the greatness of your mind, and you offer me empty entertainment. You want to touch the strength of my spirit, and I offer you a beautiful face. I want to feel that I can trust you, and you surprise me with betrayal. You want to be sure that you can trust me, and I am full of hesitation and doubt. I want to hear your laughter, but you can offer me only tears. You want me to be your carefree inspiration, but I am full of suffering and hard-won happiness. I want you to fight for my love, but you are neither strong enough nor inspired enough. You want me to promise you eternal love, but I am not brave enough, nor desperate enough. I look to you for protection, but you are obsessed with your own emptiness. You want me to forget my pride, but my dignity is what keeps me alive. I want you to be open with me, but you are afraid of crucifixion. You want to feel God's mercy through me, but I am hard-hearted and cruel.

We keep spinning like shadows in a vicious circle of meaningless concepts. You become the shadow of my love, a shadow without fire or passion. And I have already become the shadow of your idea of me. I am afraid of losing my freedom, and I lose your love. You are afraid of causing me pain, so you offer me security instead of love. And you lose my love.

We are like shadows of the lives we were meant to live. Instead of loving, we imitate feelings. We pretend to care about one another's pain. We pretend that we are capable of offering mercy. At first, we sincerely believe that everything will fall into place. We sincerely believe that everything will be filled with eternal meaning. But we choose to live as shadows of who we truly are because it is convenient, because we are hidden in a safe place, because it is easier, and because it hurts.

The fog slowly descends upon the earth. It covers the stage of life, where the actors wear masks because they are ashamed to show their true faces. The deep red of the rose hips flows onto the ground like tears of regret and helplessness. The thorns remain deep within our hearts, tired of pretending to be alive, tired of being shadows.

You want mercy. I want mercy.

And somewhere along the way, we lose each other.

(Elena S. Lyubenova)