At a terrible jazz concert she came back to me. I remembered this time, when we were at her house, a beautiful loft overlooking a quiet neighborhood. We smoked cigarettes outside on her large balcony, talked, held hands, listened to music inside, had sax against the large, top-to-bottom window, but mostly I remember that she was waiting for me, at home, having made delicious food for us. It was a moment that struck me, because I rarely feel like someone does something just for me. It felt like I was on her mind, that she was really looking forward to seeing me. That I mattered to her.

I remembered her amazing style, her quiet way of talking, her sadness that was rarely visible. I remember the last night, riding home with her, being so distant. I miss her. I want to go back to the last night and give her an ecigarette so she could still smoke but would do less harm to herself. I want to go back to the night she cooked for me. I want to go back there and hold her, tell her that she matters and that we can try to do something together. That there is a future for us on this planet. I regret having lost her…

There is no absolution. There is nothing we can do about what we have done, it’s ordained for us, set in stone, our future is a function of the past with no exceptions, no way out, a long stretch of road behind us marking our mistakes, highs and lows, without a way of making really sense of it other than forgetting. Forgetting the beautiful heights and remembering the deep bottoms, the everlasting hurt that one can never heal.

Se jönni se menni nem tudok, csak várom, várom a sötétet, várom a fényt, hogy eljöjjön, felrázzon, hogy megérthessem újból, fellélegezhessek, hogy élek, létezem. A várakozás nem tesz jót, félek, tartózkodom, s ugyanakkor várom, várom már hogy itt legyen, megjöjjön, hogy végre láthassam és a szemébe nézhessek, átölelhessem és a közelébe lehessek. Várom és félek.

The past is gone. As I dream about the past year, it has been a long, beautiful ride. I had the opportunity to meet amazing people, get close to some, learn to believe in myself more, trust my senses and to be more gentle with people around me. A wonderful, hurtful, open, exploratory year with many surprises, deep depths and explosive heights and lots of adventure. I’m looking forward to another one, hopefully just as living and meaningful as the past one.

Je sais, il y a la vie privée, mais la vie privée, elle est boiteuse pour tout le monde. Les films sont plus harmonieux que la vie, Alphonse. Il n’y a pas d’embouteillages dans les films, il n’y a pas de temps morts. Les films avancent comme des trains, tu comprends? Comme des trains dans la nuit. Les gens comme toi, comme moi, tu le sais bien, on est fait pour être heureux dans le travail de cinéma.

A long conversation with a friend and I’m strangely calm. Some things cannot be forced and one simply has to accept them. Otherwise, the illusion of control takes over, leading to nothing but frustration and disappointment. I should practice more meditation…

Something broke and I don’t yet understand what. It makes me hard to focus, keeps me watching my email for the one that says goodbye (for good) and I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same again. Something broke that I cannot repair, as if the intricate, fragile mechanism that has been ticking for so long has built up some kind of tension and now it snapped and no longer works. I find myself fearful of the future, afraid of what will happen next and not caring about anything or anyone. Anyone except her, who seems never to answer and I’m too afraid to ask why, or when or how. I’m too afraid to tell what is the truth, that I’m worried and anxious about what is going on and that I need to be reassured that in fact everything is OK. I remember old times (two in particular that come to mind) when I felt similarly, in a situations where I had no control and was incapable of doing anything meaningful because all I could do was to wait. It’s a feeling of hopelessness and a form of anguish that eats one bit by bit, bite by bite until eventually only the shell of one remains. And nobody wants a shell. Not even someone who really cares, not even someone who is the most precious to us. Nobody. A shell is just a useless weight and without its own content it can only be filled up with that of someone else, which is not only boring but even more heavy and so burdensome. I must let the shell go or fill it up myself or else I’m in for a seemingly never-ending rough ride.

As I look in the mirror that I got after a long struggle with myself, I see myself falling apart. Her leaving has hit me harder that I thought, left a mark that I have trouble understanding and I cannot heal. I miss her response which seems never to arrive as I check my inbox so often for so long and it’s not there. I’m afraid she hates me, or much worse, that something has happened to her and I’m here, blaming myself for being stupid on that day for things that I shouldn’t. As I face my worst nightmare, the nightmare not of simple rejection but of worthlessness, I tempt to think there isn’t much to have here, that I’m trapped in this place where there is no escape except the obvious.I have thought about that before but as time goes by and people go by and I still feel alone and lonely, I see the escape hatch more vivid and bright, where finally I can be alone and be content about it, where I won’t have to face another day of worthlessness and self-contempt. I don’t think too many people would mind. I remember this thought I had (reminds me of a word she taught me, kopfkino) that if I had a funeral, the first person I would want to be there is her.

Fleeting but forceful , she enters and leaves but the time spent and the feelings felt stay. They linger on to change me into someone better, more open to happiness and pain, ready to experience all that is around without the tyranny of the walls we all build to protect but also estrange us. All the wonderful and painful things, people, places, the moments that we have and will have, come closer and I feel them warming me, gently touching me. I feel them around, encircling and making me happy to be here, alive, to live and have lived, make me want to stay and spend more time in this wonderful place where there is so much to lose and so much to gain.

The number of girls I’ve slept with, the euros I earn, the hours I sleep, the calories I eat, the kilometers I bike, the films I saw or books I read — and the number of times  I said ‘I love you’ and number of times I didn’t but should have.