Be me: Go for a weekend to another city, where nobody knows you, to take part in some kind of farmers festival, couse your grandfather want you to. Be skeptical about all the "fun" waiting there for you. Change your attitude after seeing joyful peoples faces. Want them to share their happiness with you. So talk to almost every person. Nevermind if they're from catering or from politics. Smile widely, even not knowing who your interlocutor is. Look at every single person and percieve it just as a human being, not a job. Take pictures of literally EVERYTHING. Later find out that everybody took you for a representative of the local media. Laugh out loud, because now you know why you were given so many business cards. In the evening be so tired that almost by accident brush your teeth with your grandfathers shaving cream, not the toothpaste. Live the next day like the day before. Come back home being shocked how happy you were whithin last two days. It seems that it's not bad to set your mind completely on present and live in the moment.
When Jeff stepped out of his car he stepped right in the fluid. It was orange and red. It bubbled and steamed. Where did it come from? Where is it going? Is it toxic? Jeff scraped his shoe on the curb and huffed. "This is just what I needed," he said, oozing with sarcasm. Jeff was an important person - within the context of the agenda and mission of a certain corporation on a particular project that was important to their shareholders. He clocked-in and clocked-out at the times he was expected to. "You have to be dependable to nurture long term value," he said, with seriousness indicative of a person who believes what they are saying. He approached the door and swiped his security card. What was that fluid? What will it do to his shoe? Jeff nodded to the security guard and pushed the up button on the elevator. He only had one minute left before he was expected to be clocked in.
Tatters. Tumbling tatters from misplaced comforts. We are walking histories of our pleasures and their impacts. Suffering shapes us in to who we are, but so do pleasures. Pose-striking celebrity stars make great advocates for addictive chemicals. Voice-depleted rock stars share their advice on avoiding menacing liquids. And all of us store up these minor consequences from seemingly inconsequential pleasures. We decay one dopaminergic burst at a time. We look out our window and some times we go out to play. But soon we will not want to go out to play because "I don't feel right." Little chemical consequences accrue. The dust congeals. The casket encloses us, encroaching upon our lives. We are struck with fear, then ring with anxiety. We seek comfort. We seek to quiet the anxiety with little pleasures.
I’m just trying to exercise my mind muscles; trying to induce that creative trance that cashes in my image deposits; the "pay-off metaphors" that make my fingers worth typing for. There it is… Ope! I lost it. Darn. Wait a minute… piano melodies… ricocheting off the water. Fish circling an underwater specter. Provision… vision… Pro… ambiance settlers… nope… passing through the resistance field like a breeze through a picket fence, whirling around your posted guards and into your impervious fortress. (I am here for you). If I can fend off these pop-up windows, I’ll get you what you need: A metaphor to move your skull-muscle. So shift that content around until every thought is balanced, like two chubby kids on a teeter-totter.
I keep thinking about what could have been. I know you're holding her hands. I know I'm on the backgrounds. I know I'm supposed to like her but my eyes were fixated on your wide shoulders.
I remember the smaller boy I chased so many years ago. The boy with the Uchiha crest. It was obvious for me to go to whatever extend possible to reach you. I'd hunt for you, I'd kill for you. And if we can't come to an agreement and you decided to hurt important things in my life, I would sacrifice for you. You who was now looking at her. Your eyes were hidden behind long bangs you started to grow after the war, I can see what kind of expression you could have felt. I don't know what you are thinking.
All I could do right now was to bitterly take in your presence, comforting myself how no one can feel you the way I do. And how no one can feel me like you do.
I swallowed, my mouth went dry before I knew it. During the celebration, when everybody were busy chatting up to each other and while you and her greet everyone, I left.
I have to run away, I though to myself. Your images filled my heart 'till the brink it started to flood my whole being.
The cocky little brat, the unrecognizable friend, the cruel killer, the guy I long for, my rival, my best friend.
Gaara once asked me to define what friendship was and to what extend should I allow myself to indulge you.
It was during the time the kages decided to execute you, Sasuke. I honestly have no idea, but the moment I though about you dying it hurts so much I can't physically take it. Maybe it was around that time I realize I'm willing to sacrifice for you, I'm willing to die for you as long as I can stop you from hurting our village.
Why do you care about me so much? You used to ask me, over and over.
Because I'm your friend I answered, I was confident. And you looked so surprise, your dark eyes turned grey, you seemed hurt. All those times, you always looked so sad Sasuke. Even when you were blabbering about killing me off, even when you were hitting me with your deadliest blows, I wonder if you knew, you looked really desperate Sasuke.
I fastened my steps, jumping through the roofs. Street noises are killing me, wind gusts stabbed me like million needles. I'm in pain Sasuke.
It leaves me wonder think, how much it would've hurt you to take that blow for me, at the bridge.
Mind your own business! I screamed.
Hell if I know, you said. My body just moved on it's own. You said.
Until now, I can't fully figure what you meant.
Does that mean I'm your dearest?
Seldom, I would catch you looking at Sakura with such soft gazes. I imagine that's what love would look like, for you.
You never looked at me that way. You always frown, you always look angry. Sasuke, does that mean, for you she's...
Before he knew it Naruto had stopped at the ruined Valley. The people had left it as is to comemorate their pride. The statues were completely blown off. Hashirama and Madara's sealing hand lay cold on the grown, incidentally forming the seal of reconciliation. Naruto stood on top of it. He stared blankly at the valley that'd started flowing again.
He knelt down to touch the soil, recalling how cold it was that day. If he could choose the person beside him in his agony it would have no doubt been Sasuke. And that day Sasuke was there. They were only 17, kids trying to punch the shits out of each other. Wounded blood everywhere. He forgot everything, Sakura, Kakashi, the world. It's only between Sasuke and him. Naruto never forget his friends, he'd wanted to protect them, to save everyone. But for his best friend, he was more than willing to die.
Naruto slowly lied down where he presumed he once did, looked over his side at the place Sasuke was.
He laughed at himself. Of course, Sasuke couldn't have been there anymore, he was probably hand in hand with Sakura right now.
Naruto wondered how the weeding went and how much time had passed. Was it done or not.
The sky had been tainted completely dark. When he left it was still sunny. He tried to stop himself from imagining Sasuke and Sakura going back to the Uchiha household. What they would...
Naruto screamed. He screamed so loud his throat went completely sore. His breathing started to accelerate, his whole body heated up.
S... Shit! Naruto grunted. Trying to control himself.
Finally, he curled up and tears started to stream down his cheeks. Eyes wide open, Naruto imagined Sasuke, bruised, tired, left eye forced shut, staring at him.
He was with Sasuke first, he spent the night with Sasuke first.
Naruto smiled faintly, clenched his right hand. In that poodle of blood, with their broken arms, he never told Sasuke how he vividly felt Sasuke's hand in his. He caressed it and squeezed it against his own.
What does he want from Sasuke? Naruto bit his lips, Sasuke was his friend, Sasuke was...
He never imagined his attraction towards Sasuke was anywhere near the kind Sakura does, nor does he ever felt like marrying him. But, right now, his heart is telling him otherwise.
Without thinking, he imagine Sasuke was there, leaned in, but a hand behind his dark hair and lay a kiss on his swollen lips.
Just as he'd expected goosebumps ran down his spine, his stomach boiled up, much like his first kiss on the second row, third desk.