Toothpaste
Tonight I walk towards the bathroom. It's late, past midnight. I like to leave the lights off inside the bathroom, the ones from the kitchen are bright enough for me to see where I put my things. My smartphone and the small speaker go on the right side of the sink, my toothpaste and toothbrush go on the left side. I don't like sinks that don't provide a surface to put my things.
I look at the mirror. My reflection is dark, but my eyes are capable of using every tiny bit of light available to see myself on the other side. "Wow, I'm already on my early thirties," I think to myself. I still remember that young boy that once told me how beautiful my eyes were. I don't like mirrors, I don't like seeing my own set of eyes looking back at me.
I sigh and look down, leading my sight to the smartphone screen. I press for three seconds one of the buttons on the small speaker until it beeps. I wait for it to show up on my smartphone and I sync it. I choose My First Love by Paper Aeroplanes. Reminiscences of what I once called life, the youth I still cling against. The first track starts playing. A little smiles is drawn on my lips, the little warmth in my chest just like the first time I listened to it.
Toothpaste on the toothbrush. The toothbrush on my mouth. I look down, avoiding eye contact with myself. The second songs starts, I can feel the calm of the middle of the night fill me whole. I take my time to brush my teeth, getting progressively caught on my memories of those past times that one come back. I remember all the silly moments, the friendships made along the way. The joy, the struggle, the good, the bad.
The last track ends, cutting the ambience with the silence of present. The album is over, and so is my youth.