Lately, when the day gives its turn to the night this burden in my chest becomes heavier. This restless feeling that I have lately becomes more urgent and these four walls cannot restrain me anymore. It’s the sweet whisper of the night that makes promises and I cannot decline.

I am meeting my friends tonight but I am in no hurry. I take the longest path in order to enjoy my loneliness first. I zip my coat to feel my own warmth and take a small walk. The silence of the night is unique; everything is like in slow motion. It gives me the feeling that this world, even the stars and the moon that I gaze is completely mine. My self-awareness is on its peak level and in every corner I have this intuition that I am going to see something special.

On nights like this, I cannot stay calm. It’s the sweet whisper of the night that urges me to mix with people and Live. Have you ever heard it?

It’s such a sweet, sweet night. A cool breeze is shaking the newborn leaves and is making them rustle and sing their prayers to the goddess of spring nights. This soft murmur is stealing my thoughts away from my everyday concerns and sends them riding on the starlight to faraway places.

I start daydreaming, or, should I say, nightdreaming, of these people I have yet to meet, the smiles I will add to my collection, the adventures I will narrate to my grandchildren as bedtime stories, when I am an old, old man. I still have time, I tell myself. Just after my twenty-fifth birthday, I hardly consider myself an adult. But still, there’s this disturbing image I see every time I dream of the future: I think of myself as an old man again, but this time everything is different. I am lying on my deathbed, with nothing in my mind but regrets; regrets of the trips I always postponed, of the friends I lost, the moments that slipped away from me. Regrets of the life I never lived.

I shiver; this image is so powerful that seems to darken the night, as if the stars aren’t bright enough to shine through my fears. I stop and grab a tree branch next to me so I don’t fall. Is there no hope? How will I save my life from bitter regret?

Suddenly I see a boy, probably around my age, walking slowly on the opposite side of the road. Although the night is a bit cold, he seems to be fully enjoying it, while I am lost in despair. How can this be? ”What is your secret?” I scream silently.

Even though I made no sound, he turns and, with a knowing smile, winks at me. Suddenly everything is clear; I need to stop dreaming about people and start meeting them instead, stop thinking of life and just Live. I smile and nod back. As I continue my night walk, I know that life is not something we wait to experience, it’s rather what we actively create. I am also certain that, although I don’t even know his name, the boy with the zipped coat is my friend.

The days passed by like this, and the two young men kept seeing each other while walking, their moods fluctuating between the two extremes on the spectrum of the human psyche, never coinciding. There were times when one of them was in a better position to wordlessly remind the other what should be known, and other times when these two roles alternated.

But there was a night when, mesmerised by intoxicating scents and beguiling songs, they took a turn towards the same magical forest. At last, the fear or desire of death was very far away. Every breath they took was a challenge to Death.

And that’s Life.

Grito + Serotonin Addicted