Today I opened my box of food that arrived and I felt that I need to share that with A. I live this sheltered life, everything is going fine, except that I have nobody, I’m alone and it’s like having no anchor, no place to come back home to and explain how I feel, tell how I see things, just talk about stuff that happens with me. It’s as if now everything was right except something was off, an elephant in the room that I try not to look at but it’s hard to avoid. Lots of things make no sense. Finally I’m actually making money, putting things aside, have a “comfortable” life and I’ll leave this behind for something exciting and interesting and beautiful but also in a way back to the old days of being worried about making ends meet. I feel lost and everything seems very scary. Staying, leaving. I can now see how much I could do, I can see that I can be worthy, but I also see that it takes others to see how much I can be worth, and I don’t know what the future will bring. I’m afraid. And I really-really need to be with my love.

These days are difficult. Before I met her I didn’t know, but now I do, that there is something really beautiful to look forward to. Just today as I was about to get on my bike, I thought about, as I sometimes do, having an accident. And I realized that although I used to care about myself in general, I actually never really cared about having an accident. I didn’t seem to have felt as if I had to loose anything by getting hit, maybe going to a hospital, maybe worse. Not that I don’t enjoy this life — I do, and I always did, but it just wasn’t that valuable. I didn’t see much change in it, it felt repetitious. The biggest change I ever saw was that once I got out of high school, aggression and violence was gone. But nothing much has changed between then and when I met her. It’s interesting to think that a decade can go by and everything can stay at a standstill. It seems it’s only through relationships that we can truly change.

She will be different. I will be different. Who is awaiting me? Are we just spending time next to one another? Can she still challenge me? Can I still challenge her? Are we just good memories for each other? Will we break down in each others’ arms? Who will I see? I don’t know. I’m afraid I will be with her like I have been with everyone else lately — superficial, empty, meaningless. I am not sure where I went, what happened. It slowly, slowly crept up on me. The emptiness. The laziness of trying to do things. I’m slumping into dark matter. I’m not getting anywhere. It’s crept up on me so surprisingly slowly. I don’t know what I’m doing. Looking at stupid websites, spending time with useless things. Just meaningless things. I didn’t use to do that… And nobody can fix that. I must fix myself…

The counter says 17 and I’m happy. Only 17 days and I’ll see you. I want to be there, exiting the plane, you waiting for me. I want to be there and I want to hold you, love you, kiss you, smell you. Hold your hand on the way home. Sleep next to you. Wake up in the middle of the night just to see that you are there. Cry without you seeing, in the middle of the night. Telling you how much you matter to me. Explain to you how I have been changing, how I now understand so much more about work culture and hierarchy. How I have matured but at the same time I lost some of that childish, young spirit of trying to change everything. How I feel like an older person now. I want to tell you about how I changed and I want to see all the beautiful change that you have went through. I want to see you working, leading. I want to be in your garden with you, just laying down on the grass, looking at the sky and forget about everything and just enjoy that you are there, with me. It’s so close, it’s so amazing and exciting!

You sailed away and I stayed behind, you went to a far-off land, into the wild and I stayed. You are far away now, as days go by I feel more and more alone. When I hear your voice, it’s distant. The phone cuts out to remind me that you are not here, and I cry. As I feel you getting further and further away in the wilderness, I wish I could be there, but it’s a false wish. It’s you who has to make that choice. And you have made your choice, you have decided to be away. I need your hand to touch, your shoulder to sleep on, but I’m stranded here on the seashore and all I can see are the waves crashing and smell the faint memory of your perfume on my pillow.

You sailed away and I stayed behind, you went off to find yourself and I’m stranded here, dreaming of you, wishing that you had included me in your adventure.

No time for me. I miss that time. It’s time stolen from me. I feel like I felt before: having a partner without the other person truly caring. I’m in this something that doesn’t help me move forward with my life. It’s just eating me, draining me. I wish I was better, I wish I could be there with her. I feel like wasting time, energy. I want to build a life, and I’m not managing. I put myself in harder and harder situations, I make my own life a living hell. I want to get out of this, but there is no easy way out. The easy way out just seems easy but is riddled with its own problems. The hard way is the only way, but I’m tired and very-very lonely. I know I can give — she gave that to me, that knowledge that there is more out there and it’s possible for me to attain it. I’m just not sure how much time it will be, how much I will have to work on myself to get there. To have a life worth living.

Waiting for the light

for her soft skin
to touch mine
and transport me

for her laughter
to make me smile
and elevate me

for her hair
to fall on my shoulder
and carry my weight

for my life to untangle
with her by my side

I’ll miss hearing about her life. I’ll miss worrying about her. The smell of her skin in the morning. Her challenging questions. Question that nobody dared to ask. Her play of words. The memories that came to me so often of us walking around in the city. I’ll miss missing her. Thinking of her while walking in an empty corridor. Remembering her in the middle of the workday, just like that, out of the blue. Her playfulness. Oh god, her playfulness. That mischievous smile of hers. Her backpack. How I loved that backpack. How it reminded me of her, her mum, her family. Her stories about her childhood. Giving her presents. Those were beautiful moments when I could get something she liked. Giving her flowers. All the weird and beautiful and amazing flowers I could get her. Waiting for her reaction to my gifts. The thought that I mattered to her. The thought that I mattered, to her.

I lost it. The fight. The fight for her. I lost it in my heart. I now see she doesn’t want to commit. I need to find someone who wants to. Who wants a life with me. With me only, who is ready to sacrifice for me. Who wants to do something together, build a life together. Who wants to commit. I need to settle down, get serious about my place, my life. And find someone to love who loves me. Who doesn’t belittle who I am, who we are. Who recognises the weight a relationship has. Who sees me worthy enough to spend a life with. I feel like I am back at square zero. I have learnt, and it will be somewhat easier. But I need to build it all again. I need to find someone I can love again.

I remember. I remember all the beautiful times. That time we were fucking against the full-frame window. That time we were at her room after the party, with her beautiful painting, forever half-finished, next to us. I remember touching her hand ever so slightly at Soupanova, a touch that would carry us for years. I remember that time when her panties were so wet she didn’t put them on when she left on that cold autumn day. I remember having trouble sleeping next to her in her amazing apartment, not knowing why, but I couldn’t enjoy having sex with her even though she was engaging and special and her body was stunning. I remember being outside on her balcony, smoking cigarettes, with something in the air: hope, beauty, the light of morning in the dark night. I remember her jumping on my back on that party, just being happy that I’m there. I remember biking to her place, along the Spree, crossing, visiting her amazing loft. I remember visiting her place for my birthday and she showing off her new high heels that she would never wear. I remember her touching my hand in the taxi on the way back from CCC. I remember her coming back from her parents’ place in the summer, wearing nothing but a white shirt and a rose skirt, meeting me at the door. I remember going to Tempelhof on that stunning summer day, her in front of me, blocking that strong sun, me saying something I will never regret.

And I remember HER. I remember all the amazing, beautiful times She has brought me. How she changed everything that is me. Her playfulness, depth, fragility, strength. What makes this place, this world, so amazing to live in.