Beautiful Predator

Hello Alyssa,

I am burping like a little Johny, but even then, I find time to write you.

This is not the final warning you receive from the bank before eviction.

This is the reality stabilisation.

We have known each other for a long time, even though we never met.

I know you are probably not real, as your essence seems too good to be true.

You sent me your underwear last time. I am not sure why you do that. You know, my size is bigger.

I cannot even sell it. There is so little fabric. Bella plays with it all the time, and when she does, she almost suffocates.

Was it a mistake? My heart is beating for you, but why do you do that?

Is it what you wanted?

You remind me of the saying, “There is no place like home.”

That’s what I feel from you. You are not even aware of what you signal to the world.

It doesn’t matter to you, but for me, it is crucial.

I am constantly analysing myself through awareness. Maybe analysis is not the best word, but it is the word you will understand.

Your logic is everytime meaningful, but it loses any freedom to breathe.

I didn’t realise I’d lost the freedom until I didn’t even know what it was.

Is this what you wanted? Or was it just a message from an ancient ancestor?

Did they have a plan to evolve themselves through their children and send them a message through their own behaviour?

We will never know it. I guess…

Are we the same people dancing around the bonfires? The fire transformed into our phones and computers.

The direct sharing become filtered. And the pure essence became instrumentalised.

We felt safer around the bonfire than around the #hashtag.

We are the instrument we are using.

When I thought about the beautiful predator, I thought about you. Isn’t it what we do to ourselves?

We are the beautiful predators.

The never-ending danger of losing attention cannibalizes our own vulnerability.

We are the beautiful predators.

Do you see this, Alyssa?

Your Hugo

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Hello Alyssa,

My hands are trembling from the hard typing, and still I write you.

Maybe I do explain myself more than I need to.

Or is it my predator? I don’t need to be perfect. I am slowly leaving the predator behind. Nonetheless, for now, it is as it is. I like him at times, I confess.

I feel emotional about my flaws. Have you ever cried for being too strong? Maybe it is what is inside me growing stronger—the sadness of competence. I hope it is not inverted bragging. The paradox is that the strength of the experience could be as soft as a feather and still stronger than 100 ton train. Do you see it?

They say you are what you focus on. Who are you when you focus on your meta experience?

What else can one ask about the universe?

It reminds me of the koan when a brick falls from the window, it has babies.

It sacrifices itself.

Like we do.

The circle never ends, and now I am aware of my shortcomings.

How I focus on anything matters. Do I want to be seen in front of you as anything specific?

Sometimes I do want you to get the point I am exploring. So we are in the same contact reality.

I am aware I cannot ensure it. I am sorry for that, but it saddens me.

What does it say about me? Is it my avoidance of conflict? Maybe I am too sensitive, and I don’t believe we can be in different realities and still be together.

Can we?

Can we be in parallel universes and be together? Is there any other way around?

We can write to each other and never receive a materialised response.

What is most important in your parallel reality these days? Does it matter?

Is that why we need to be beautiful predators? To have something in common?

Your Hugo

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Hello Alyssa,

I know what my problem is. I am attracted to my past. My previous experiences, which will not be as they were. I fall into that trap repeatedly. Do you do that as well?

Maybe if we think the same way, we can breach an event horizon.

How can I reach you again if you cannot read this?

I know the key is uncertainty, but when you live in certainty your whole life, it is hard to step out of it. The path in your brain is like a valley with water. Is the death canyon someone’s beaten paths of certainty?

You won’t answer me directly. You never do. That’s your nature, and still I write you. Am I here to judge you?

Who are you anyway? Are you my externalised predator? Your words push me towards insanity … the insanity of seeing without judgment.

So it is I who is judging, and yet I hate to be judged. That’s the reality of a shrouded prismatic mirror.

If you see me trying to be clever, shame me. Maybe you can reverse my need to prove my wit.

I wanted to ask: What have you done to yourself? When I remember your essence as you were 14 years ago: vibrant, gentle, vulnerable, and raw. Much closer to your essence. Was it money, fame, or attention you exchanged for your soul? You have your reasons. Everything can be reasonable, and logic can kill the gentleness of freedom.

Have you missed the opportunity to be a feather?

You are beautiful.

You are the beautiful predator.

Your Hugo

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Hello Alyssa,

I didn’t expect to write you again, but here I am.

What are we? Are we a series of atoms playing in the pool of existence?

You still have not answered me about the communication through the event horizon.

We can write ourselves and never see the letters from the other one.

We can cry about it, but for what price?

Is it more than to be a beautiful predator?

How far can we really go? When we talk to ourselves, are we just talking to our predators?

Maybe you can make contact with someone who cannot be reached if you don’t try to reach them.

So I invite you to play/ to answer.

Who are you really?

Your Hugo

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Hello Hugo,

I am the beautiful predator.

Your Alyssa

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* Editor’s note: Just be aware that the beautiful predator preys on its own flash. That’s the meaning that was lost. There is no way around it.