by Alina Kurpel
WhatsApp. Asya—Kim. 22.04.2016.
Kim: Finland is close!
Asya: Siii 😃
Kim: how is it going with your anti-American task?
Asya: I can’t believe it, but it seems we avoided this shameful shit! At least it won’t be filmed 💪
Kim: congrats!🥳 how did you manage?
Asya: We were the last group scheduled to record the program. At the exact time it was supposed to happen, Bobr had something urgent to attend to, but he forgot to inform us. So, we waited for him for half an hour, then called him to ask if he was going to make it. Bobr apologized and let us skip the recording part! 🥳🥳
“There is happiness in this world,” I hear a sigh behind me as I rush towards the metro. Along the gloomy April street, covered in slippery mud, the wheels of my suitcase rumble. There is! Of course, there is happiness. It overwhelms me, bursting forth, unable to wait—it is about to happen. Just to reach it. Just to make it there.
The time we spend together is so fleeting: whether it is just a weekend or a whole week. Then we wait again, for a long, long time, for everything to fly by in a second. I sink into tenderness that engulfs, sucks me in. I want to get as deep as one could never experience in this lifetime. I want to get rid of the air that forever lingers between our bodies. In these moments, I do not know how to become even closer. How?
— I want to devour you.
— What?
— Have you ever felt this when you want to hug someone incredibly tightly, but no earthly embrace can be so strong? And then this feeling arises: as if I want to devour you.
— It’s certainly flattering, but strange.
Once again, we are infinitely distant. So uncomfortable and mismatched, we do not align. You dream of a sustainable world without borders. I want to be famous, beautiful, and forever young. (You do too, but you talk about a sustainable world.)
I ask you again, who we are to each other. Once again, you are not sure. We are bringing up the possibility of breaking up again (who this time: me or you?). You do not want to be tied to anything, and I want something more understandable. We cry for hours. And nothing new. A bunch of selfies to convince ourselves that this actually happened, that it was not just a dream. Then the messages in a loop. Good morning—Goodnight—Good luck—How did everything go?
I desperately want to embrace you. It feels like immense helplessness. From this desire, tenderness disappears, kindness vanishes, and nothing warm remains in it. Bitterness fills it all, viscous and endless.
© Alina Kurpel 2023-08-29