T-54, Thursday

You know I’d sooner forget but I remember those nights
When life was just a bet on a race between the lights
You had your head on my shoulder you had your hand in my hair
Now you act a little colder like you don’t seem to care

Today I was listening to this song by Dire Straits and it hit me and I got sad and lonely. I remember those nights, I really do. They live with me. I remember the time I was inconsiderate to your friends and then to a stranger. The next day in the morning we talked and I told you about my aspergers and you told me that you like me just the way I am. I really miss that moment. I nearly cried when I remembered that. I want to hear it again, it was so beautiful…

I saw this girl on the train who had wider hips and I thought about you jokingly telling me that this is the curvy type and that’s how your body type is. I loved how natural it was for you yet how alien it was for me to see you in this light of having a specific body-type. You told it to me in such a light-hearted, positive way. I miss your gentle explanations. I miss how you never judged me.

T-53, Friday — the shadows

I see these people walking along and I see them being shadows of their former selves, walking along because there is nothing better to do right now but to go along with the flow, follow the stream that leads to the next day, the next failure. I start to understand what people mean by the rat-race, the never-ending rush to the finish where nothing awaits but an empty coffin. I see myself rushing along with everyone to my destiny in this crazy world where  all meaning has been lost and transferred to ‘work’ which, seemingly, had a meaning of ‘play’ at one point but has lost it all and has become a repetitive monologue of empty to-do lists and stress of not having done enough. I see myself in the mirror and see a shell of myself with no meaning inside, drained by the empty promises and the missing of the one I care about the most. Just an empty shell with no reason to be other than to wait, waiting for the dark, waiting for the light, like that book by Ivan Klima. Things make no sense, but waiting doesn’t make any sense, either. It’s a mouse trap where the longer I stay the more tired I get and eventually, like all the mouses in the traps, die not through some external force, but through my own self-exhaustion.

I remember how much more interesting life was when you were around. We went and explored all those exciting things. Each other, the city,  art, beautiful places.

T-52, Saturday

Even though I’m not supposed to, I feel like an idiot not writing her. I miss her as if I was banished to the bottom of the ocean, gasping for air. It’s terrifying and very lonely here. I feel the weight, the pressure on me, and I have to consciously stop myself from writing her. In a sense, I write her every day, but there is no dialogue. I love her amazing thoughts and feelings, her gentle way of approaching things. I would like to hear what she has to say. I’m just hearing my own echo. It’s the best way to go mad.

Today, as I was quickly leaving my room for a strange meeting of hackers and people (how I would love to talk to you about this…), I popped a chewing gum in my mouth and I remembered: it was you who made me start chewing gum. I was always afraid that it will damage my teeth (for no good reason, really) but with you, I thought, let’s give it a try. And I never turned back. I gave you that empty chewing gum box not only because it was sentimental (our first date…) and because it represented an important point for me (you gave me the package with only one gum in it and I said, one has to accept/keep the ‘bad’ part as well as the good — and I did keep it), but also because it was such a simple gesture that is now an everyday thing for me. I’m so glad, if for nothing else than for this moment that I could remember you just by popping a chewing gum in my mouth. Simple, simple things. I need to hang on to these, or else I think I’ll loose that small thread of sanity that’s left for me.

T-51, Sunday

Today I went for a trip with my friend to the park and I wrote you a message even though I know I shouldn’t have. I missed you so much, I was thinking of you and how I would like to spend my life with you. How I would love to share that time and experience with you next to me, gently holding my hand and never letting go.

T-50, Monday

Today evening it occurred to me how humbling it is to love you. It’s the realization that I cannot possibly have a choice over what you do, that I have to simply accept it. I first thought how frustrating this is, but now I reached a point where I feel that this is, in fact, how it’s supposed to be, when one learns to accept. I read this blog the other day about a person talking about the death of his brother. He repeats: Accept. Accept. Accept. Maybe it’s time I do that. It’s strange and wonderful to see how much you changed me.

In the meanwhile, I was listening to this today on the metro and thought of you.

T-49, Tuesday

Today I saw a guy in colourful shoes with some striped, coloured socks and I thought of us always discussing extravagantly-coloured old men and how I would look like them when I get older. You always laughed and told me it’d look good on me. I miss those moments. Every time I take the socks you (or, more appropriately, your mother, to whom you talked about me) gave me, it feels good. I put them on on Sunday and I’m glad, they reminded me of you.

Hanging on is much more difficult than giving up. I always give up, always. It’s easier to accept that one is worth nothing (and secretly think we might be worth a lot but nobody knows) than to be told that we are worth nothing. I fear the latter so much that I often just give up before anybody could tell me off. Maybe it’s time that I learn to believe in myself.

T-48, Wednesday

Yesterday night I dreamed about you. We were in the bed and I was gently holding your head in my two hands, talking to you, massaging your neck. Then the electricity went off and I was a bit startled, and suddenly some fur stroked me — it was a cat that was in the bed, too, though shouldn’t have been. I went to switch the electricity back on, but the door to the apartment was open. Maybe someone came into the apartment? I was scared, but I was happy that maybe my little cat is back.

I don’t know how to interpret this dream… I need some light to know what’s happening and I’m afraid someone else might be in here between the two of us.

Today as I was walking home from work I saw someone walk just like you do when you are sure of yourself and want to be less open to me. It scared me and you were on my mind for a very long time after that. It’s a strange gesture of looking up and being confident that makes me scared. I’m afraid that’s how I will see you the next time we’ll be together.

T-47, Thursday

I listen to Baba Maal’s Mi Yeewnii and I start to understand how some can express what they feel through music. I don’t understand a word of what is being said but the music speaks to me. It’s sad and lonely, somehow describes the feeling of pure loss but with the joy of having someone to miss…

I often look at girls and think, what if that was you, how gentle would I be with them, how giving and caring I could be, and realise how much I have lost by not having you. I want to take pictures of nature: I have trouble interacting with people now. I’m more irritated, less patient, less interested. I fee like hanging on to something that is only in my imagination. Things make sense less and less.

T-46, Friday — An accident

By accident I read your message today, the one you sent about not wanting to see me. The one that says you want to end it all because you want something more fulfilling. I read it, and I don’t know what to do with it. It’s like a massive black hole that sucks out all the energy from me, a huge hammer that hits on the glass to shatter it into pieces. It reads so harsh and heavy. It reads like you were at the same time happy and sad to write it. I read it and a deep, dark sorrow overcomes me. Like the shadow of something much-much bigger, something dark enters and I have trouble leaving my mind. It’s hard to explain. Something that I thought was full drains in a matter of seconds and I’m left empty, with something important missing. It seems there are only two ways to go: trying to forget or keeping it alive. And I’m not ready to let go, not this time, not like always. I’d rather go mad fighting for it than to go the other way, of not caring, of not paying attention, of not being here, now, where I belong.

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.