Tag Archives: comment


“This is the hardest.” I say to my side, as I turn my head to look diagonally to the guy staring straight at me. I get ready myself to serve this time. A doubles game currently taking place, our eyes locked to each other. Taking a deep breath, I continue for our team.

Serve, run, smash, distract myself.

I lose the point.

“No. This, is the hardest.” He whispers to me as I walk towards the other square. Again, the guy on the other side of the net stood diagonally from me, waiting for me to be ready before he swings his racket. His look is similarly intense, focused on the game, focused on me.

He is right. This is harder, not the previous. Not having to force myself to focus on him, locking my target as I prepare myself to play, but him looking at me, in the most serious kind of ways. There is no possible way for me to escape his gaze, as if there is no net separating us, as if he is not standing halfway across the court.

I am glad that half the court away, he stands, completely oblivious to this small conversation happening. There is nothing left in me except the feeling of longing and the memories of spontaneity, fearless decisions and persistent actions.

But the worst is none of the above.

It is the fact that I am easily readable by this guy on my side, no context needed to understand the subject of my sudden comment. As close as we can be, we can never be close enough in the ways that I would have desired.

The one that got away is the one in my present, who’s standing next to me, not the guy of my past. Yet, I know for certain that it is my present who will haunt my late night thoughts years from now.

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

What type of shoes are you?

It is easy to hate the people you see on tv, the ones who take up spreads in magazines. You do not feel guilty pointing each flaw and provide non-constructing criticism, throwing words you would not dare to say to people around carelessly.

And you know why?

Because we do not see them as human beings. We view them as objects. Or maybe a hybrid of both, I do not know. It has never occurred that that person on the billboard have the same flaws as we do. We dismissed the fact that what has been to said to them is hurtful just because they are not there to hear those upsetting words. We completely forget to see them how we want others to see ourselves. It never registered that we are made of the same flesh and bones.

This happens to me as well.

That changes when I see them in person. Having them in the same room makes me understand that he is just like me. We have the same skin tone and his smile reminds me of my dad. His greying hair a sign of endless thinking and stacking problems and his touch was similar to the touch of all the other people I have touched. I expected a smooth, stiff material, for his limbs to click when he moves and technical problems to arise when he nears a microphone or a speaker. But of course that did not happen because he is human. Like me. Like everyone else in the room.

Because most of the time we think the shoes that fit us are the only shoes that exist and that the rest of them, the ones we have never seen are not considered shoes at all.

Tagged , , , , ,