Heaven Can Wait: Vitruvian Man | Michael Jackson

I. Indigo Night

I slowly opened my eyes, enjoying the night breeze, trying to process where I was exactly. I was appreciating the sky's reflection on the lake in front of me and the darkness engulfing me. The complete stillness and silence would be interrupted now and then by water rustling or leaves dancing to the song played by the wind. 

I could feel wholeness, being one with existence; I felt the music of life being orchestrated all around, elegantly broadcasting, reaching the ears of those who care enough to listen. 

I eventually snapped out of it by a call I received; it was my colleagues asking me if I was okay.. because today around noon I felt like I was fed up with everybody and just told them I wasn't going to work with them ever again, and rushed to my car driving to the farthest point I could reach, the place that feels like an extension of me where I could be safe. 

I decided not to take the call; I made my decision, and there was no going back at all. This is my life, and I get to choose where it goes. I got up from the ground, took off my shoes and socks, and dipped my feet into the water, letting the coldness numb my senses and lighting up a cigarette to soothe my nerves, enjoying the slow burn in between my fingers, slowly and steadily eating away at it, till nothing was left but a bud. 

Eventually, I got back to my car. I was supposed to drive back home; it was getting pretty late, and I had wasted the day, so I felt too much guilt to just go anywhere but home. But I didn't want to go back to my four empty, dreadful walls; I enjoy my solitude and breathe its fragrance to the core, yet sometimes I just despise the coldness that paralyses my heart. I sat in my driver's seat, drifting into nothingness. 

But where could I go? I felt like a ship trying to find land; no port would allow it, so it keeps sailing over and over through the vastness of the oceans, knowing only one friend: nature. 

My phone kept ringing nonstop, so I had already decided to turn it off just when I found myself in front of my apartment building; I must have driven there by muscle memory. Well, might as well just get up there. 

I sat surrounded by books, papers, and data; it was chaotic, but I loved it; it was my work and my life. The problem with my team was that they wanted me to work with them for someone who wanted to invest as much as possible and capitalize on animals being studied to understand how to ultimately make them produce more. My job, as well as some of my colleagues, would be to try to manipulate them, especially those set for human consumption. I was in a very tight place financially, and my girlfriend was part of the team, so we decided to actually enroll in that project, but as time went on, I couldn't live with myself; I felt hypocritical, and I knew this couldn't go on; I'd truly rather not have a pound in my pockets.  

I felt that my decision was justified, and, on the other hand, I had this idea to study; I was very intrigued by the limbic system and certain parts related to emotions and memory, and that's what I needed to focus on. So, I decided to call my girlfriend about it, and it was around 1:00 a.m., but I knew she would be awake; still, she didn't pick up. 

I drowned myself in my work and put on some classical music, Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker, to lift my spirits a bit. I am a night person, so I was enjoying every second of it. I did get tired eventually, though, and decided to take a warm shower and let the water wash me of all the dreadful worries eating away at my head. I sat there beside a window in the middle of the living room, admiring the stars and appreciating the fact that I could see those beautiful shiny dots and hear this sweet music coming from my gramophone, which was a gift from my grandma; she was the only person who truly understood me and stood by my side. I wondered if she was up there surrounded by those stars, and whether she could see me or hear me. I scoffed and closed the window.