by Teona Galgoțiu
I am looking at Uriel looking at herself.
I have been doing this all my life
and almost all her life, from the time she invented
me. Her long blond hair covering her
swollen, crying face. I can never touch her.
She can never touch me. Purple light
covering her marmalade body. The sound of bees,
all the time, in our mutual head.
I want to disappear, we say. I am alone.
She was four when she first said my name.
Murmu. My plump purple limbs appeared first.
Then my huge head. Glossy eyes. Dark mouth.
I am a monster.
I watched her grow, her growing pain, growing euphoria.
Her relationships transforming, some coming to an end,
the bruises left by her lovers, by her parents, by images
that cut like just-sharpened knives. Her borderline diagnosis,
the pills, the lost memory, thousands of lost conversations,
lost nights and a lost self. I was always there. I am afraid.
Kingdom of fear, routine of loss, transparent dying flowers
spreading their petals through the apartment, ending up in her lungs.
Cover all the mirrors, my body is gross, I have to stop eating.
Vomit, trees bending, breaking the window. I feel
too much, I feel nothing. Self-sabotage and rotten breakfast.
I try to hold her with my non-existent arms.
Being an imaginary friend gives you the benefit
and the burden of always being there. I see her endless
falls and hear her rapid laughter. I watch her sleep,
sweat swallowing the pink room, from bad dreams,
from bad light. I can never save her, I can never leave her.
Meliodas left her, Helena left her, Rino left her.
She cried until a river formed, until the apartment sank.
Started living on a boat, me and her against the leaving world.
I deserve this, we say. I’m a bad bad person and I want to disappear.
Of course, she made a lot of mistakes. Some unforgivable.
I always wanted to stop her, aware of the consequences,
but she would just plunge into decisions, like a spoon into soft cake.
Would you turn back time, Uriel? I would do it for you,
even if it meant the end of me. That’s an imaginary friend’s duty,
kamikaze, sacrifice for the little god who invented me.
You really were little. Big blonde head, screaming for attention.
This, at least, has stayed the same. I would always give you attention,
if only you could see me, if you’d remember me. Murmu.
Say my name. Invoke me. Invent me again.
Healing and nourishment, that is what we need. The morning
penetrates our mutual head and it feels good. One pill, two
pills… water… three pills, four… water… five pills, six, seven. These are our destroyers and protectors, our dragons and our knights.
The bitter taste followed by the sweet one makes you think of
lovers, especially one, the one you really loved, the one who
left. After the breakup, he told everyone about your borderline,
how it destroyed his life, how you destroyed it. He blocked you,
but not before telling you that his biggest wish in life is to never hear from you again. You were in the hospital then, locked up,
getting crazier and better at the same time. “All the deformities of
the world will imagine one without pain”, Benjamin says.
All that is crooked, sick and mad is reborn through itself.
All change is painful, we thought. Yes.
The ups and downs, the spirals, five steps ahead,
six steps back. Food on the floor, burning bath, burnt toes,
ice pools, icy face. I can’t feel my face. I don’t want to.
Childhood swings heavily above your head, as it does with everyone.
Your parents made mistakes, some unforgivable, too.
Heavy rain on the roof, the sound of safety intertwined with the sound of panic — someone slammed the door. Someone left just after the arrival. I’m not good enough. I can’t be part of this world.
You are so beautiful, so small, with wet hair,
trembling spider legs. When will they come back?
Define salvation in three beautiful, coherent sentences.
Uriel, I love you, even if it’s the end of me.
The benefit and the burden of an imaginary friend is that it can never leave… I focus on light playing softly on the wall
above your sleeping head.
Uriel. Dream of my name.
[ AS IF IT HAD BEEN WAITING ALL OUR LIVES TO HAPPEN,
OUR MUTUAL HEAD SPLIT INTO TWO.
I COULDN’T HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS ANYMORE
AND YOU COUDLN’T HEAR MINE ]
Murmu. I remember your name.
In my solitude, in my euphoria,
In my darkness, in my confusion,
I always knew your name.
You can leave me.
Leaving means transformation,
which I need,
like water.
I am so sorry that I can’t even list
all of my regrets.
I don’t blame it on my disorder, it wouldn’t
be fair. I just wish I didn`t have it and we could
slurp juice together again near Pankstrasse
or near Piața Romană or hidden in our apartments,
watching film after film until they become a soup
from which we just remember images that got
stuck to our brains. Murmu. Meliodas.
Helena. Rino. You couldn’t really leave
me, even if you tried. I don’t care about being
cheesy. Cheesy is good. You can’t leave me,
because you’re always here. Yes, I’ve learned
to love from a distance, because I had to.
My tears are full of loss and joy, because of
this realization. Murmu. I call your name one
last time. The beauty of having an imaginary
friend is that it teaches you that loss
doesn’t
actually
exist.
Teona Galgoțiu (b. 1998, Bucharest, Romania) is a filmmaker, writer and the founder of the Gura Mare platform, which explores poetry through interdisciplinary projects and for which she won the “Poetic Experiment” Award. In 2020 she debuted with the poetry book “I look back and it’s gone” (Iustin Panța Debut Award, ARCCA Poetry Book of the Year) and her latest theatre play about the end of the world will be staged at the theatre of Essen.