Day Twentyfive

Kamui walked outside of his house. He wanted to walk through his city and to reflect about what happened that night.
He hadn't left his house for thirteen days. He only lied inside of his bed. He didn't shave himself and didn't take a shower. He only ate on his bed and only drank on his bed.
He didn't play on his piano and never listened to music.
But one sudden day he stood up, went to the bathroom, took a shower, shaved his face, dried his hair, dressed up (a black sweatshirt, black pants, white shirt, black and white Vans) and walked outside.
His mother only looked at him, smiled and started to cry. She never really knew what she should do with her son. She never understood when he told her that he was different, than other young boys. He never liked to do sports or go to a party and drink all night. As a child he preferred to play with the girls. He also liked to dress up as a girl and pretend to be a Disney characters. Cruella DeVil was his favourite one. He sang the song she always sang and used pencils as cigarettes. Maybe it was because of that that he started to be different. Maybe this was the reason why the boys in school called him names and laughed at him.
His mother never understood why. She always thought that he only imagined that the people looked, pointed and laughed at him. Kamui stopped to talk with his mother. Earlier in his adolescence, he talked a lot. But suddenly he felt misunderstood. And that was why he stopped to talk.
Kamuis’ mother went into the kitchen, lightened up a candle and made the dishes.

He was walking through the streets, listening to his MP3-Player (Regina Spektors' Prisoners was on at this moment) and looking nowhere. He didn't want to see the people. He only wanted to walk. He walked head down and listened to the music.
It was very early. It was around 11 a.m., so it wasn’t really warm. He felt the wind in his hair. It was good. He missed that. He started to feel alive again and he knew that it was the air that
purred life into his veins.

His mother went into his bedroom, opened the window and made his bed. She cleaned everything. She sat on his bed and cried. She wanted to know what was going on with her son.
She wanted to know why he felt in depression. She wanted to know why he doesn’t play football like most guys in his age. She thought that he was gay, but like he his mother knew, that he had been in love as a fifteen year old boy with a classmate, she thought that this wasn’t the reason. She imagined a lot, trying to figure out. She looked at his room, looked at the dark pictures and the candles. She walked to the piano and looked at the keys. And there she was. Looking at those white and black keys and doing nothing.
Thinking about nothing. Only looking and letting the tears drop.

Kamui walked. It started to rain and he went into a church. He sat down on a bench and listened to his music (Vanessa Petruos’ Strange Fruit was on at this moment). He looked at the candles inside the church and his eyes closed.

Day Eleven

Kamui writes in the Blog:


You know what it is to die?
You know what it is to feel a space between your soul and yourself?
Well... I will tell you something about the death!
I will tell you something about loneliness.
And most of all I will tell you something about PAIN!
Yes!
I'm not telling lies.
It is the most hurting pain you could ever feel!

...

Today I went to the Red Horse to meet Melody.
I walked in. And in the moment I entered that cave with the bright red lights, I already was able to listen to her. I already was able to listen to the sound of her violin.
I walked further and started to see her silhouette, hidden in fog. In the red fog.
I saw her there talking through the violin. I walked to her and she looked at me. She smiled. She looked beautiful in that black dress with those blood red shoes. Her face was illuminated by the red light. I liked that place. It felt mysterious. It felt old and warm. She saluted me and while she started to play another song she walked deeper into that place, through all of those raunchy walls. I didn’t move. I just looked after her. I felt every tune she played inside of my soul. I felt what she wanted to say with that. It was more intense than any word she could have said.
Her red hair was waving around in the air. The red of her hair was deeper. The colour was like fire. I felt it on my face. Her hair waving around. And it was hurting. Her hair was spanking my face. The song talked her soul out. It showed what she was feeling. It wasn’t a song. It was her mind talking. It was her violin being her soul.
I started to cry, because her hair was hurting too much. She was so far away, but still so close to me.
I saw that she was crying, too. She played faster and heavier, from second to second. The motion of her body was like in trance. Her soul was far away. Her mind was blearily. The sound of the violin was loud and dramatic. It was a scream. It was a squeaking between the strings. And then I saw the blood coming out of her nose. A string of the violin started to rupture. The blood was shining in the red light. Her eyes were closed all the time. Her hair was spanking my face. The red light got brighter in a rhythm, similar to the sound of the violin. Her blood dripped on her black dress and the spots seemed like burning. Her hair was spanking my face. I couldn’t stand the violin anymore. Its sound was so sad and furious that it made me scream. I had to scream in that cave. I couldn’t stop my tears anymore. Melody didn’t hear that. We were alone. Her mouth was open. Her breath was heavy. She was dancing. The strings of the violin were too strained. The blood of her nose was inside her mouth. She started to sing. Her hair was wet. She was sweating. Her hair was spanking my face. I wanted to run but I couldn’t. I wanted to stop her. I wanted to help her. She was moving faster. Her violin was screaming to her. It wanted her to stop playing. The second string ruptured. The bow still wasn’t damaged at all. It was red and black. Her tears were mixed with her blood. Her hair was spanking my face. The third string ruptured. She was still playing on the one string. The one string squeaked more than all the four of them together. Melody started to scream. She started to spit blood out of her mouth. Suddenly she screamed my name. The fourth string ruptured. She opened her eyes felt down to the ground.
I was paralyzed in that moment. I was in trance. I didn't know what to do. So I ran outside.
I just ran and cried. I loved her. I was in love with her. I realized that, because I was feeling her soul. I was feeling her hair spanking my face, although she was standing around thirty feet far from me. I ran home. I ran into my bedroom. I grabbed a knife and just stabbed into my piano. I stabbed into the keys. I stabbed into the brown old wood. And I cried. I even screamed. And I fell down. I fell down and started to cry. It was feeling like dead. The blackest death I ever knew. It was full moon. I stood up. And looked at my hurt piano. And then... I stood in front of it and played. It still was sounding good. And I played as much as I could. As loud as I could. And I wasn't myself anymore. And all I wanted... was to die in that moment. And all I did was to cry... and to play. And my piano forgave me.

Day Ten

On the last school day of his life, Kamui was playing some classical stuff on his piano. He was so happy that he never ever had to go again to that place he hated so much.
He just went to the school principal and told that he wanted to quit school. It was a very spontaneous decision, but it was the thing he wanted to do for a long time. School was lost time, he thought. It was a silly thing for him, because he always wanted to be a professional piano player.
He was searching the score for "Yes, Anastacia" by "Tori Amos" now. The song was his favourite at the moment. He listened to it over and over again. The song took him for a ride and his piano sounded great doing it. It was also time to tune the piano. The sound wasn't really clear, but Kamui liked that. It sounded deep and dark. But not sick. He never would let his piano being sick.
It was 3 p.m. and Kamui went outside to walk around the street. He wanted to start a new life today. He went to the mall and went to the coiffeur. He wanted a new haircut. Now it was a little shorter with a little bit of red in it. Black and Red. Nice colours he thought.
He went to the shops and bought a pink t-shirt with a teddy bear on it. He also bought a new jeans and a new jacket in white. After that he went to the music store again and there was Melody playing violin.
He walked through the shop like if he was guided by the hands of something unnatural. His shyness was blown away suddenly. He could not control his feet. He wanted to stand still, but his legs were walking alone. In front of Melody he looked at her and she looked at him.
"What are you looking at?"
"I am just listening to the voice of music."
Apparently she liked his answer and smiled.
"I don't have time today, but I would like to know you better. You seem interesting to me."
Kamui was blown away.
"Sure. I would love to. Tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Tomorrow sounds good to me. Meet me at the Red Horse and follow the song of the violin."
Melody went outside of the shop. Kamui turned around and walked downstairs. His hands were floating to the keys of the piano in front of him. He felt the keys and started to play "Yes, Anastacia".

Day Nine

From Kamuis' Diary:

Sometimes there are these melodies inside of someone’s head. And then there is a song that someone ask you to play or even to sing. But you just change the melody. You use the one inside of your head and just sing along the verses of the other song. Maybe a new born dream comes together. An old painting of Picasso or a new work of Royo. You never know what is coming next. You just improve.
Like Melody does. She does it all the time. I feel her melodies inside of my soul. I feel her spell through the music. I even don't know how I was able to "talk" to her. It was flowing out of my fingers. But I'm sure that she understood. I know that she recognized my words through the piano keys. The melody was warm and calm. The lights of that music store - hypnotizing. It just ended up in a play we did. A conversation between violin and piano. A work done by two magicians. Maybe two gods? Maybe two surrealists...
Just those 2 minutes we were playing were like an endless life. Ended up by a fast melancholic fight and her eyes looking at me at the end, as she put down the violin. And the moment I walked out of the store. And she stood there. Melody is the name I gave that amazing redheaded girl. Melody like the force from her fingers. The green color of her eyes. The magic of her light she gave to me.
But still is was strange to walk through the rain yesterday and to think about that song... i mean... it was more a play... a theatrical obsession of notes getting to know each other inside of a tornado. But still this melody is inside of my head. It's still inside of my fingers.
My parents even didn't notice that I stood at home today. But I had a good reason. I had to play it. I played it all morning. I played it all day and even all night. It's 11 p.m. now and I still haven't finished with playing. Even if my fingers are already hurting. But the melody is still inside of my head. Punching against my brain and driving me insane. Still I need to reactivate the play... the fight of violin and piano. The duel. The conversation. The "getting to know each other".
This entrance is dedicated to Melody my sweet diary. For opening a door to another world.
Maybe I go to the mall again to see if she's there. Maybe we could start another conversation...

Day Eight

It was strange for Kamui to be completely himself. He knew that it has been a long time ago, that he was just himself, without any masks. He tried to talk with some people in the internet. He loved philosophy and put his soul into it, like it was his life. He looked at his nails. They were black. Before Kamui went to school he only had the time to paint them black. Not anything more. Not any color. Nor any sparkling things. Just black.
He was listening to Kelly again. He listened to her everyday. She was his open door to the death. Kamui never forgot the day he saw the pictures in the news about her suicide. She was his favourite singer and from that day on, his nails were black. He drove himself insane after he found out all the hidden messages she left on her last record. He thought that he could have helped her. He knew that something was different after her miscarriages and the death of her husband. He knew that she was unhappy. Even if Kelly was smiling on the pictures and at the TV, he saw her crying. He saw that she wasn't the way she pretended. Her first single from the last album was a cover by Madonna. The title was like a welcome to her suicide: "The power of goodbye". Her last tour was so mysterious and dark that he knew that something was different. And after her death, he started to drive himself insane.
His nails were still black as he woke up. He felt asleep in front of his computer. He looked at the clock in his bedroom. It was 2 a.m. He took the red coat that his grandmother offered him for his last birthday and went outside. He went down the street and didn't notice any other person. In his world he was alone. There were those entire skyscraper and all that lights. All these typical Japanese things. But he just wanted to walk around. Breathe a little bit of that polluted air of this big industrial city. He loved the lights of the industries. But he hated the commercial lights. He was walking around like if there wasn't an end. Then he came to a place he never had seen. Kamui felt kind of a warm air in there. It was a strange feeling. But he knew that he knew it. This feeling wasn't strange at all. He knew that he was at home. His own home. The home he has created in his dreams. He walked through that place and he knew exactly where he was. He knew this place like his own house. He passed by the old chairs and by the big brown couch and sat at the old white piano. He sat there in this little forgotten corner of the city and started to play against the noise of the Japanese night. Ding Dong. Ding Dong. He played and played on that old white piano and forgot about the time. He just played in his red coat. Underneath the coat he was naked. But the coolness of the city wasn't as cold as the warmth of his little dreaming corner. He just played...
"I hate to hear you scream dad." But of course he knew that his father wasn't interested in knowing that. He knew that his father wouldn't stop to scream. But Kamui was customized by that. His parents just didn't know how to talk. They screamed. Kamui thought about the night and about the old white piano. He wanted to play as loud as in the night. Maybe he wouldn't have to hear the noise of his parents anymore. He hated it.
Kamui was at the mall. He needed a new pair of shoes. He knew exactly which ones and where to buy them. But she just didn't let him. There she was again. The redheaded girl with the mysterious aura. She looked at him from that music store. She was playing a violin. He just fell into another world. He fell again into his dream world called "Utopia". A place without problems. His own Eden. Without screaming parents. The only thing making noises were pianos.
She was playing a violin. And he knew that she was playing for him. He saw it in her deep green eyes. As green as the deep green light.

Day Seven

After School Kamui went into a shop. He wanted to buy a new mirror. He couldn't live without one. It was his door to another world. His need to look into his eyes was to big to forget and abandon.
Today he was completely dressed in black. Also his make-up was black. Only his face was white. His eyes and nails were black. He never has worn black lipstick. Kamui thought that that looked dirty and foolish. But he often changed his mind. Kamui remembered that he used to put on black lipstick last year to do some pictures at a castle.
On the way to his house he stopped at a place he never had seen before. It was a wall of a house with a graffiti on it. The graffiti showed a happy boy which was playing with a purple butterfly. Kamui wasn't interested in graffiti. But this one was fascinating. He loved the details of the boy. Of the butterfly. The eyes of that boy just showed something that Kamui never had seen before. Or even knew that it existed. They showed peace. Even if it was just a picture, a drawing, they showed something that Kamui didn't believe in. Peace was something unreachable for Kamui. It was an illusion. It was a dream in a polluted world. A world that was colder as ice.
He came home and putted his new mirror to the wall in his bedroom. It was a normal mirror with a black frame. He looked at himself and tried to find his peace. He tried to see something quite similar in his eyes. But there was nothing. All he saw was a hole. A big dark nothing.
His mother came in. As she was crying, she said: "James died today." And his only reaction was a silent breath. A silent movement of his heart. He went to sleep. Even if it was just five p.m.

In Memory of Jens Ebner (08. 1989 - 03. 2007)

Day Six

He remembered that before he woke up he saw that light again in a dream. He saw the light getting brighter and warmer, even hot. It was the reason why he woke up. It was too hot to sleep. He couldn't stand the height of it. And as he woke up, there were does eyes in front of him.
Kamui never thought that he was crazy. He knew it. He knew that he wasn't normal. He wasn't normal at all. He always said that it was the guilt of his parents. "You are not insane Kamui. You are a completly normal boy." The words of his mother were the same. All days. From this day on he promised himself to keep his secrets for himself. He thought that his mother don't need to know them. She even didn't knew about his cutting. Even in summer when he used T-shirt, she never saw the scars on his arms. But Kamui accepted the ignorance of his mother. It didn't bother him.
He went to school again and went to the toilet. He thought about his life and about his death. About suicide. He thought that noone would notice it. He thought that it would be something nice. That it would free him. But Kamui just laughed at his own sillyness. There were so much things he wanted to do. So many things he wanted to see in life.
He went outside and saw her. There was that little redhead. She looked prettier than in that church. He couldn't realize that she was at his school. But she was. She went to the lookers and put a black book inside of it. Her looker was the number 318. She looked so beautiful. She was wearing a black skirt, a white jacket and some black boots. And always that red lipstick. It looked like blood. He loved her bracelets and her collar. Everything she was wearing was kind of a dirty silver. It almost looked black. She turned around. She was new at that school. He knew that. He would have seen her before. She walked slowly and selfconfident. Not like other new people. Mostly there were shy. But she just walked like a goddess. And every other one knew that she was different. Every other schoolmate looked at her like if she was a celebrity. And she looked like that. She looked like a mixture of Rose McGowan and Marilyn Monroe. She was the most beautiful girl he ever saw.
The schoolbell rang and he went into his class. As he looked out of the window he saw a crow standing on the ground. He looked at it and suddenly the crow fell down. It was dead. Kamui was shocked by that. He started to cry and ran out of the classroom.
He went into the toilet again, took out his razorblade of his pocket and cut. Cut. Cut. Cut. Cut. And cut his arm again. Cutting wasn't pain for him, because he couldn't feel the pain anymore. But it was his imposition. It was his scream of help. He never used patches or something else. He just let the blood ran out of his wounds.
He sat down on the school-corridor. After class nobody looked at him.
Kamui went home and sat on his piano. He started to play Mozart and Beethoven afterwards. He took his polaroid camera and took a picture of his arm. One more on his wall of pain. One more to look at before going to sleep. He took his clothes out and stood in front of the mirror. He looked at himself. His body. His face. His hair. His arms. His scars. His eyes (and all the lies). He screamed. And with a punch the mirror was broken. And he looked down to the pieces of his mirror and started to cry.