[ WP ] You 're friend keeps talking like he is breaking the `` Fourth Wall '' and you 're no longer sure he 's acting crazy .

> One can think of ordinary, real, time as a horizontal line. On the left, one has the past, and on the right, the future. But there's another kind of time in the vertical direction. This is called imaginary time, because it is not the kind of time we normally experience. But in a sense, it is just as real, as what we call real time. - Stephen Hawking 
 
 I had this book he owned, `` A Brief History of Time'', by Stephen Hawking. Last night, I found it on my desk. I'm sure, it was n't there before. Just a week ago, I saw him reading it. And now it's here. With this sentence written just after the main text of that book ends, *If I ’ m ever found dead, it was murder. I would never kill myself*. 
 
 I frantically called at his place, his mobile, his mom, mutual friends, his girlfriend, his office. No, he had already checked out. He had been fired three days ago, and he did n't tell me. He broke up with his ex, but I did n't know. I heard his ex crying on the other side, `` What happened to him? Why did n't you guys do anything?'' 
 
 I said, `` Well, why did n't you?'' 
 She sobbed, `` I tried to reach you guys, but he had threatened me. He said he'd kill himself if I ever thought of that. And then, he broke up with me. Then I got this message.'' `` What message? ``, I asked. She said, `` I'm gon na forward it to you, it's long.'' 
 
 Shortly the message arrived. It was like this: 
 > I am who I am. I will forgive U for what U did. U did a lot for me, but the moments U backstabbed me, mostly unintentionally, it hurt the most. Come October, when I will be no more. Please visit my mom, and express your sorrow. U should take responsibility for what happened to me. If anyone not meant to see this message does see it, they will pay for it. With every power I have, I will strike back at them. 
 
 What really did he mean, her ex did n't know, neither did I, neither did his mother. He had packed a backpack two days earlier and left a note to his mother. It was something like: 
 
 > Come October, when a girl will come see you. Please give her this. 
 
 And on the other side of the note, there were the opening lines of this song: 
 
 Baby, I've been waiting, 
 I've been waiting night and day. 
 I did n't see the time, 
 I waited half my life away. 
 There were lots of invitations 
 and I know you sent me some, 
 but I was waiting 
 for the miracle, for the miracle to come. 
 I know you really loved me. 
 but, you see, my hands were tied. 
 I know it must have hurt you, 
 it must have hurt your pride 
 to have to stand beneath my window 
 with your bugle and your drum, 
 and me I'm up there waiting 
 for the miracle, for the miracle to come. 
 - `` Waiting for the Miracle'', Leonard Cohen 
 
 What happened to him? Yeah, that's what I have been trying to figure out since then. 
 
 Was it the *Faceless God* in **GOT**, or the *Face Stealing Spirit* Ko in **Avatar: The Last Airbender**, I do not know. But I should admit, I really wanted him to watch those two series, they were my favorite. But before that, I had made a stupid mistake. I watched with him this film, by Andrei Tarkovsky. **Zerkalo**. 
 Afterwards, during a joint time, he said, `` Did you hear what I heard?'' I asked, `` What?'' He said, `` I really loved those Arabic texts the poet recited during that movie.'' 
 
 `` What Arabic text? Those were poems composed by Andrei's father. He was Russian.'' 
 
 `` Well, I knew you'd not understand. It's like a spiritual thingy. He talks to me, in words both you and I hear, but the meanings are completely different for me. I feel blessed!'' 
 
 I should have felt concerned right then, but I did n't know this crucial info: he was seeing some psychiatrist for three months. I never knew. He had been telling systematic truths, that were lies in a sense. I should have known, because he loved writing and wordplay. 
 
 And we became the victim of his merciless wordplay. 
 
... And suddenly all changed, like in a trance, 
 Even trivial things, so often used and tried, 
 When standing'tween us, guarding us, 
 Was water, solid, stratified. 
 It carried us I don ’ t know where. 
 Retreating before us, like some mirage, 
 Were cities, miraculously fair. 
 Under our feet the mint grass spread, 
 The birds were following our tread, 
 The fishes came to a river bend, 
 And to our eyes the sky was open. 
 
 Behind us our fate was groping, 
 Like an insane man with a razor in his hand. 
 - `` First Dates'', Arseny Tarkovsky, translated from the Russian by Tatiana Kameneva
