T-45, Saturday — The email

This is one of those moments when I’d write you a mail. One of those mails that you inspired me to write. I’m sorry for all the stupid things I did. For not telling you how much I wanted to spend more time with you, how much I was disappointed when we couldn’t meet, how happy I was when we did. How terribly sorry I am for how I didn’t write you when I arrived here and how strange I always felt not writing you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I want to live with you. I didn’t understand it then. There is nothing that compares to being with you. When you were with me, or when there was still a possibility that you were going to be with me, I didn’t realize how much you meant to me. The worst part is that these are just words. They always were, to you, because I never mustered the courage to do anything about them. I wish I could be a better person. One who puts more effort, more time into planning and carrying out those plans. I wish I could be better. I try to be better. But I’m not succeeding.

Today I realized I’ll never be able to show you the beautiful market next to my apartment. It’s only open during the weekends and you won’t be here by then. You’ll be away and I’ll be here, struggling to keep it together.

Yesterday night I woke up to this dream that you had cancer that spread from a benign place outwards into your body. I kept repeating to you that I love you and then the dream was over. When I got up, I was really scared and was for a moment afraid that you really had cancer.

I remember you telling me once that out of the three things: intellectual, physical, emotional, a relationship can only have two. For a long while, until about the end of the year, I was convinced that you only took the first two about me. It was very-very hard. I remember thinking that I want to tell you about this, and ask you what you meant, but I never mustered the courage. It was one of those truly scary things that I tried to push to the back of my mind as far away as possible so I wouldn’t have to face it every day. I just remembered this today because I looked at my phone and I saw this really old note I took about this and it all came back. The fear of not being good enough. I remember our first date, and how I wanted to stir away from the intellectual.

Today I went to the woods and I thought, I would like to stroll there with you, hand in hand, talking about life.

… And if the above is not proof enough, today was the hardest day of all until now.