Today as I launched youtube, I saw that David O’Halloran clip I once sent you. It transported me back to those early days, early hours when things were hazy, uncertain, but interesting and full of possibilities. I remember us going to the concert, being there, with you next to me, listening to that mesmerizing music. You were beautiful that night. And I remember, you had to leave as you were preparing the work for the job you got in the end. You didn’t tell it to me then and I was a bit worried why you don’t want to meet me that weekend. I remember biking home, in the rain, being a bit dazzled and quite sad.

Today as I was doing some work, I was thinking aloud to myself and caught myself saying “yeeeees” with that tone you often used for saying this word. It stopped me for a moment and I could hardly concentrate on anything for the next couple of minutes. As when lightning structs nature, everything stops to a standstill for a moment. I was there, in that moment of standstill, amazed and terrified, for a long-long time.

Today as I woke up and looked at my phone, I remembered those days when I woke up and I saw that you wrote me. I remember the joy. I’d cherish the feeling for as long as possible, like when a child gets a present — I would be be simply happy without opening it. I would take a shower and feel really special that there is a present for me in there somewhere. Then I’d sit down and read it, pretending to be casual but really be happy that there is something just for me. Sometimes I’d keep myself from looking at it for hours, not looking at the message because I want to be longer is this moment of having received something. I’d even do this with emails from you. It was such a game, just pure joy. This reminds me of the videos you sent of your new place. The people listening to music on the bus, those beautiful landscapes. I still have your picture of a sunset as my background on my phone. Maybe it’s somehow relevant. I’m so sorry to have made it relevant… I’m so sorry.

Today, in the middle of the day, I was sitting in front of my desk, doing nothing, and out of nowhere I felt this strong, paralysing sensation that I really missed you. It was strange, there was nothing that triggered it, it just came, like a wave that you can’t see on the calm ocean, to show you where you really are, to wake you up to the force underneath. There at that moment, I felt that I miss you like the fish misses the water, that I want to swim again, with you, and be happy again.

And if you’re ever around
In the city or the suburbs of this town
Be sure to come around
I’ll be wallowing in sorrow, wearing a frown
Like Pierrot the Clown

I see these people on the train, dressed up to for this horse race and I remember us dressing up for the theatre. I remember asking you about what went wrong that day, I remember the long wait at that diner. And I remember not making love to you in the bathroom even though we planned. I felt very inadequate that day. I remember walking instead of taking the bus.  And I remember realizing that you couldn’t read the subtitles well enough. It was strange. A rare glimpse into your fragility, a peek behind the set, into an area that so often remained in the shadows.

I remember you giving me the Top 31. I thought it was something strange. I remember you denying that it was anything important. I opened it in secret in the office, next to the balcony and I was overwhelmed. It was amazing, beautiful, I never got anything like that, ever. For a moment, I didn’t even understand that it happened. I never thought it could.

I wish I could tell you that we can do it better, that we can make it work, that there is a future for us, together. I wish I could bring that optimism to you. But I can’t change you and I’m not sure I want to. I love you exactly the way you are…

(Today I watched a film about memories and I it dawned on me that all I have is memories of you. It made me somehow weak and fragile when I realized that)

If I could tear you from the ceiling,
I’d freeze us both in time,
Find a brand new way of seeing..
Your eyes forever glued to mine.

Don’t go and leave me,
And please don’t drive me blind,
Don’t go and leave me,
And please don’t drive me blind.

Blind to the sorrow, blind to the happiness. The blindness that overwhelms everyone around me, that seems to govern the world. Like that film clip I showed you, with the sun temporarily being darkened by the moon. The world seems to have that quality of darness, shadow, people being shadows of themselves. And me joining them, slowly but surely…

All these people with their colorful clothes and pretend highness and all I do is feel sorrow for having lost you and think about maybe I would do the same, pretend and be happy, maybe all I feel is envy for their pretend happiness and I should try to accept but I can’t and it feels like I am alone with my pain, surrounded by ghosts, shells of another world where I never belonged. A world I was always supposed to belong to but I could never muster the courage to let go of what I believe to be the core, the meaning of what I’m here for, to truly live and feel. I see you in the background of my screen with Serra looming large, as you put it, and I feel that if I was there again I would run to you, hug you, make love to you again under that dark, deep obelisk that passes no judgements. I want to be there again, see the tetrahedron, see it light up and ask you to marry me.

On the train I hear people talking about nothing… we never did that. It’s such a strange thing to see how special it was what we had. We always talked about interesting, life-changing topics, things that mattered to you, me, us, the world. I remember our email conversations, our discussion of those wide range of topics that I was always looking forward to. And I remember our talks that drifted into the private where we explored things that were hard for the both of us, topics that are difficult and that most never get to talk about. I remember your curious questions, I remember those moments of your openness, the fragility, the silence. I miss all these conversations, your mischief and care.

Today in the evening I saw a couple hug for a very-very long while on the street in front of my room and I thought I’d love to hug you like that, long and deep. Just you and me, close together. I want to cry on your shoulders and feel you, smell you, touch you, with all my heart… Love is the only thing that keeps this world spinning as it gently weaves the dreams of lovers.

I got the flower back today. The one you gave me and the one I forgot at my old place. I don’t know how I did it, but I forgot it, and when I realized it, it was really painful. It was out in the garden, so it was hard to notice, but still. It reminded me of what you said in our phone conversation: that I am so generous with my words (and maybe, consequently, less generous with my actions). Walking to get the flower was really hard. It reminded me of all the times I made a mistake with you, it brought back all those dark memories that now started haunting me again. I was so relieved to find her there, again, a bit battered, but not broken. I remember you saying that that flower was representative of our relationship and that I should have just left it in my old country. But I didn’t and I’m glad. If it is representative, then maybe we still have a chance. I have made mistakes, but they can be undone and we can make amends.

Do you think of me when you are by yourself, in bed? Do you think of me and what do you feel? And why did you come to that meeting in Zosch but didn’t have fun with me? Did you want to? Were you disappointed? Did you want to tell me something that day? I remember my old failures with you and they haunt me. Maybe I wasn’t paying enough attention.

Sometimes I feel like in a prison. Where you, liberty, is out there, but I’m not allowed to escape. I feel like I am in my own prison, my own place in my head and it’s terrifying.

It’s 6am in the morning on this Sunday and I’m thinking of you. I’m sorry for all I’ve done. There is no one comparable to you. I fear that you’ll be here and you’ll tell me that it’s over. I’m different now. I used to be happy, generous, caring. I’m afraid, self-centred, and cold now. I wish I could explain this. Like a flower that closes for the night, I’m closed and waiting for you but I’m afraid that even though you’ll be here, you won’t stay in my life. It’s very-very hard to digest and makes me want to cry every day. I’m sorry for not taking you more seriously back then and telling you I want to live with you. I’m sorry for my mistakes and missteps. Of course that’s not enough, but I can’t do much more. Right now, it’s only waiting… and I’m just eating myself alive.

—

What would you remember of me if I passed away? I’d miss you if you passed away. I’d miss your tender love, your gentle care, the way you hugged me on that fateful Tuesday morning, the last night we slept together. I remember you just hugging me. I’d miss that hug and I’d miss your tears at the airport. I’d miss you waving me goodbye when you disappeared into the security check. I’d miss seeing you again and telling you how much I love you. I’d miss your smile and the way you smell. I’d miss our conversations about the world, about ourselves, about our past. And I’d miss building a future with you.

Today was eerily quiet. There was a moment when I got an SMS, and for some reason I thought it may be you. This gut feeling came to me and I checked my phone. It was an automated message.

Why weren’t we Facebook friends? I would have enjoyed chatting with you. It’s so strange. I was daydreaming that we went to a park, had a beautiful sunny day and talked about all these things that we were too afraid to do or mention. I wish I could ask you some things. Like what you thought of that conversation we had after I got back from abroad and we woke up in the middle of the night and discussed the topic of planning our future together. I wish I could make you aware of how much these things haunted me. How much they were on my mind but how afraid I was of your rejection, or worse, your dismissal.

I wrote this novel just for you
It sounds pretentious but it’s true
I wrote this novel just for you
That’s why it’s vulgar
That’s why it’s true

Today as I was getting coffee and was about to put some sugar in it, I remembered you laughing about me doing that to coffee. I liked that laugh and I missed it then. I wish you were there and we could have just laughed about my dumb habit.

In the evening as I was watching films about sex work I missed your commentary, your view. I miss you from next to me, I miss sharing the experience with you. This way, the films and articles devolve into some form of pure, concise knowledge of having seen or having read, without the feeling of understanding or creative thought. I remember watching the film you sent me about people in love with objects. It was so fascinating, so engaging. I was really happy that you sent it to me, that you thought of me. It was like a beautiful gift, and I was so happy to have received it. I remember how grateful I was and how fascinated I became about how we can share such topics and have engaging, meaningful conversation about them. I miss those gifts and I miss those conversations.

I want to hold your hand in the sun. I remember the first day at my new job, and your note that I look good in my outfit. I miss your presence, I miss your amazing insight, your gentle way of telling me what you think.