Growing up.

Alright, so there’s the past, on the left. The present, in the middle. And the future, on the right. Two directions where you could go but you can’t actually cause you’re stuck in the present, whether you want it or not. Everything on the left has ceased to exist, nothing on the right has ever existed yet.

Then there’s this infinite loop, this wormhole, this something-that-scientists-cannot-explain, starting from X which is NOW, and going back to something that stopped existing a long time ago. This ‘I-don’t-know-why-I-did-it’, this ‘I-want-to-feel-your-skin’, this ‘Where-the-fuck-is-everything-I-knew’, and I am stuck there.. now. And have been for quite a while and even more since I talked to you the other day. If I were religious, I would say it was God’s help. If I believed in miracles, that would be one, and if I were completely honest, I would’ve thanked you, and thanked you, and thanked you.

Sitting here on a chair that’s miles away from you, I realised both how amazing you were and how we could’ve never been together..happily. I still can’t believe how with every word you said you made me feel better and I kept crying and literally felt the pain like some sorta energy leaving my body. The things you said made me see everything differently and although I am happy with myself and all, I am utterly miserable that you, my dear.. you are unreachable. I made you unreachable.

You could’ve been a room away and I made you unreachable. And the fool in me is disappointed, but I guess I was not-fool enough to choose you in the beginning. And there was the beginning, and there was the end, and nothing will compare to that cause there’s no time and I’ve learnt too much and saw too many things to go back to how I was 4 years ago.

I don’t know if I miss you, or just my teen years and that summer three years ago with you in the park wearing that green shirt. You know that I love you. What you don’t know though, is that.. I STILL love you..

 

 

THE midnight thought

“Oh just remember the telephones, well they’re working in both ways
but if I never ever hear them ring,
If nothing else I’ll think the bells inside
Have finally found you someone else and that’s okay,
Cause I’ll remember everything you sang.”

I know that like an unspoken rule, we’re not supposed to talk every so often, not supposed to say a lot of things about our lives now or bring back a lot of memories. Basically not supposed to do or say anything we want to, cause we both know how that would backfire.
I should be happy with 5 lines from time to time, and you shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t think of you, and you shouldn’t be sad cause it’s just 5 lines from time to time. But we both know this connection of ours goes beyond the time we spent apart , the distance that separates us now and all those words that should’ve never been said. And yes, the telephone stopped ringing a long time ago (like in that song you sent me), and yes, we might as well be strangers. But thing is we’re not, and I still think of you at least 3 times a day, every day.

I like talking to you cause you are my past, and my past is who I am.

I like you cause you understand everything I tell you and everything I don’t, and all the rubbish I talk. And you know where that comes from, cause you know me like I know the taste of cold milk in the evenings and you were beside me to see it all go down and rise again, and again, every fucking time.

There are evenings when I just stare at your offline name like a psychic, hoping that clenching my fists and listening to an acoustic song would make that name pop-up in the corner of my screen and make you say hello, like it happens in the movies, or cartoons, or any other fake and shallow media production. But you were never fake and shallow and you never go online when I’m dying to tell you something about my course, or meditation, or just see your semi-dark room and hear the dog barking. And that’s how it happens, I wait, then I feel sorry, then I wish I were there with you tonight. Then I just go to sleep cause it’s useless, and I wish you bloody knew that the last image I see before failing to stop the eyelids from falling at night is you.

That being said, I’m going to bed. I’m okay, you know. You kinda taught me how to be ok, apart from making the best omlette in the world. So I have OK and I have Omlette. I will survive. I just..

I’m not supposed to say.