I am not going to start this letter as usually… with an empty remark on the time that has passed by from the last time I wrote to you… no, I will try to be better this time, without so much time lost in translation between emotions and words…

Funny, isn’t it… you can be word-professional but still find that sometimes is easier to feel than to express…

But… who am I talking to? You are the expert in that, you should consider giving lessons, or making a show… that everything-can-be-survived guy from French Foreign Legion and you…shoulder to shoulder…

Anyway, just blabbing tonight, not as I have had anything smart to share… I just felt like talking, and I have checked MSN, but Jim wasn’t online and Gab had a toothache (funny reason not to be talkative on typing messenger, now when I think)… you weren’t there either, of course… but I am used to that… I bet that you are enjoying wilderness too much to do trivial stuff like going online just to inform people that you are still among living ones…

You should see me, sitting in the kitchen with the laptop in my lap (as its name says) listening to some shitty music from BC and dying to chat… with you… or Jim… (Gab was the third, worst option)… felt like speaking English… It is somehow easier to get all this out in English…

Have I ever told you how much I like Jim? He is such a great guy, great person… I remember when we were playing snooker, that night when you have decided to socialize with M. and watch some stupid war movie… he came, took me out of my room, took a bottle of dark red wine and keys from that stone-deaf grandpa’s at the reception and he forced me to play snooker. Ever since we have all played together that stupid game when we came back from fields and drunk, singing Gloria Gaynor, I was soooo convinced that I cannot play snooker…

So we played, listening to music and he told me that he was forty, that he is married and that he dislikes broccoli with blue cheese – our chef’s speciality… he made me laugh, deliriously, nervously… but… I forgot to watch the time, I forgot to expect, I forgot to be sad…  I remember you entering the Snooker room with the question mark written all over your forehead, I remember that night so well… and your touch, later, while we were heading towards big white doors… I remember that Jim was dressed in dark blue… and that M. drank half a bottle of mead himself… I remember … your smell… that choking sense in my throat on the very idea of being close to you… and the last cigarette outside with you, in your white polo shirt rubbing my shoulders wrapped in scarf…

OK. I definitely like Jim. I still talk to him… long and often, too… sometimes I am close to feeling guilty when I realize that I am using him as a substitute telling him things I would like to whisper to you… he is okay… he knows… I know that he knows…although we never mention you… although he would never ask… I know that he knows… and he accepts it as a part of me…

BTW, have I ever told you how much I like Jim? For real?

It has been such a long time since I wrote you a couple of words... few negligencily scattered words without any deeper meaning...

To be honest, I have no bloody idea why am I doing it now... it is not as something has changed or as I suddenly have some ingenious insight which, if not shared with you, will loose all its depth.

At the contrary, I am as empty and as caseless as I was months ago. Still drowned in my own hell of stiffed ideas and sterile expressions. Still bored to death with daily politics and monthly salaries. Still exausted with the inner fight against those sparkling memories of your presence...

Lately I have been an object of:

a)      Fraud... legaly, morally, ethicly (I still have no idea why people divide those two terms... but I guess that it is just because I am such a lost case in terms of morality, both – theoretical and practical one), finacialy, professionaly. An object of deep controversial decision which damaged my integrity and influenced the quality of my sleep (not as it was good before). I have found myself in a position of Don Quijote but I felt like Rosinante most of the time... like they wanted to make Rosinante out of me, as it was not bad enough to be twenty-six years old , female (blond, not to forget) Don Quijote in Serbia.

b)      Unnecessary shared private information. That means that I have spent hours in meaningless disscussions with some people I hardly know (and I mean this literally) forced to listen and solve their cute little dillemas always concerning significant Other. Of course, if I want to be fair, my friends (real ones) know how deep is the shit I am in lately, so they are not trying to force me to anything... usually they are just letting me be hidden in my own hell at fourth flour, silent and calm as calm I can be. But those other people... God, you wouldn’t believe... those people never stop to think whether I want to know all these things about them, whether I am intereseted at all in their private mazes and triangles or which ever figure they create. They talk, and talk and talk... And, God knows why, I allow them to do that... like I am punishing myself over and over gain... I force myself to stay and listen and be constructive although all I really want is to scream to them to leave me, the hell, alone!!!

So, basically I am a bit sick of love stories of any kind. Not as I wouldn’t be different just a couple of months ago…but, thank God, it has passed like a disease… and now I am completely healthy when it comes to these issues… I have managed to conduct the amputation of painful parts of my Being which were infected by you… to be honest, I still try to use that gone part of my ideational body… like a cripple trying to use a leg which was cut off. And sometimes it is as I still can feel the pain, distant, limpid one… but it is weaker and weaker and I need less and less time to remember that it is gone… that infected, gangrenous part of my Mind which consisted out of you, your role on my life, my emotions and thoughts connected to you and our common memories… such a disgusting part it was…all gone purple and stinky, with naked flesh turning green over the putrid bone… it had to go… it had to be amputated… so it was… and now I am much better, so much better… if you would just know how much better I am… emotionless and perfectly sterile… sharp again in thought and act… without feverish illusions of your presence in the past and future.

Anyway… as a perfectly sterile object of fraud, love stories, my own amputation skills… I guess I just wanted to say that I don’t miss you anymore… at all…   

I almost made a terrible mistake, almost a sin tonight…

Since I am not confiding to anyone anymore, I will use this opportunity to write you one sort of confession… who knows – it might even help. Help me, not you… you don’t need any help obviously… I do. I still do. But wouldn’t admit it not even for the price of my own life…or yours…

Anyway… I have almost made a sin. With someone. Someone you don’t know. Someone I once knew… long time ago.

It is this town that makes me so evil. It can’t be anything else… this bloody town I hate from the day I first laid my eyes on it. There is something in the way that air smells here. Not like in Belgrade. That is why I avoid coming here to often… I am too aware of the fact that it influences me badly… and heavily too… I hated it when I was a child visiting, passing through, I hated it when I was a girl showing off … I hate it even now when links that keep me around, visiting still, are weaker and weaker… and even though I hate this town I cannot hate those links cause those are the links of one life so precious for me that I would agree to do or endure much worse things. But, I know for sure that it is this town that makes me so wrong, so evil… like it stimulates deepest and darkest parts of me, like it makes me feel those hungers even stronger than I normally do and fight against.

I was watching him tonight… he came late, to bring me sweets as he used to do while I was student using summer break for both – visit and study… he would use that secret channel of communication we developed as kids, the bare fact that my bedroom windows stare directly into his, the channel which we used to use in all sort of ways…

As kids we would send signals, gumming the words on the window glass making sure that we would meet outside for another game of hide and seek… yes, that plain and simple…

Than… when we grew up… those windows were used differently… early in the morning or late at night I would sneak in and hide behind the curtain looking in his room, staring in him and his twin brother doing weight lifting. I would feel odd, trembling from inside out, knowing that I am doing something terrible, secret but…oh, so exciting… they were so different always… one blond, the other one dark… I preferred the dark one, of course as I always did… and I would spend minutes looking at them tightening up, shaping up those secret places on male body which was unknown territory for me at the time…

It was not once that I have noticed quick wince of curtain at their window… and I didn’t mind him looking at me too… with that childish, almost naïve, but so dirty and pure at the same time instinct I would slowly undress… touching myself lightly… breathing deeply… massaging gently skin… brushing hair… leaving always enough clothes on to inspire… Where did all that creativity go? Don’t you think that we loose something with the very undressing act… when you see someone naked it is already less interesting, less mysterious, less attractive, less… just less…

We have never talked about that. We somehow knew that there is no need to talk about it…since it was just one of the phases we went through together… needless to say… without any direct interaction.

We have never interacted… although it was always there… that disconcerted interaction… even later, when we both became aware of all parts of the human body and the ways to utilize those…never… It was unspoken rule. I would come. He would come. We would get together. We would drink together; we would go out together, dance so close that I could feel his breath on that sensitive curve between neck and shoulder… I would feel his firing palms almost on my back… I could feel warmth getting out of him from the distance of few centimetres… but we would never, ever, cross that thick border between wish and reality. Mutual understanding it was since the very first day when we were six years old and had our firs fight which made my new purple skirt dirty from the mud.

Can you see now why it was terrible that “almost a sin” I am telling you about?

He came, after almost a year…he saw light on my window… recognized silhouette… and came… late… with sweets…

Knocked silently as he always did, not to wake up anyone, stepped away from the doors so I wouldn’t see him until I unlock and open up. Offered my favourite rum flavoured sweet through the miniature space I made to pierce through…

We sat together for a while. I couldn’t tell him about you. I have tried but words got frozen and small and insignificant… and I couldn’t… finally I have found something I can’t tell him…

And than…there was that moment… awful moment…

Moment of complete silence (nothing unusual for us…)… he stared at something at the kitchen wall… and he was sitting so close… I could smell him… and it was great… cause he smelled like a strange mixture of childhood, safety, unknown, sharp knife, dark guy from the hood, chocolate and wine we drunk… he smelled like a sin tonight…

And his skin was so tempting… I caught myself fantasizing about tasting it with the very top of my tongue… wrapped up in a light material… softly shining under that weak light from the ceiling… embraced with sharp dark hair and almost defeated beard…

I tell you… it was a terrible moment when I wanted to pull up to him… and just kiss softly, using just a bit of tongue his neck… that pulsating part under the chin or the one right behind the ear… I wanted to put a fingertip on his Adam’s apple and pull almost insensibly lower… terrible, terrible moment when I though I know the way he kisses… when I was so sure that I KNOW how he kisses… so sure that I could bet on that…

He left. Just couple of moments ago. We talked for hours. I haven’t admitted this although I know that all of the sudden I have two things to hide from him, and I am not used to that, nor I like it.

It is this town that does it all… I know… I have to escape somehow before I manage to ruin even more than I already did…

You see, that is why I needed this after-midnight imaginary conversation… and you are the only one I can fearlessly tell something like this… since you know me all…

Btw, do you know that there are no salsa bars in Damascus?

Someone told me… never mind…

Take care

xx

Actually, I have nothing new to write about.

It is just that I felt like needing someone to talk to and since in real world it would probably be you that I would choose, well… it is obvious why I have chosen to write instead.

You should see me how hard I try to get out of this shit I am into lately.

I wake up every day convincing myself from the very bottom of my strength that there are still certain goals to achieve, that I have a good reason to fight back… and that I need really need to get out of the bed and start  a new day. So I get up. Prepare a cup of coffee, light a cigarette… and I try to use all these potentials you have acknowledged and almost convinced me that I have, in order to stand up.

It goes so, almost until the end of the day… than I notice regression. Very slow and almost unnoticeable one. But still a regression.

And I am deeply ashamed of myself for allowing… allowing this fall to knock me down… allowing you to get so close… allowing myself to wish for a miracle even if I knew from the very start that it doesn’t exist… even though I knew that there is no such thing as love, as happy ending… at least not in my case… therefore I am…ashamed… so deeply, painfully ashamed of myself…

I guess it was just a last stroke of innocence/stupidity/or however you wish to name it…

Now, when it is all over… and when there is no uncertainty of any type on my path… when I know for sure that it is all done, over, ended… all I have to do - is to deal with it… learn how to accept it as a truth that it is part of me as much as my bare skin is, learn how to go day by day knowing it all…

You see, there is not a single false statement here. I am fully aware of all the consequences and the pattern I have repeated… I am aware also of the remedies I should now implement…

So, there is not a single reason to write all this shit to you, I know that too. It is no longer your problem even if it once was… you should not be interested in these as much as you really are not… and I am still writing…

Wonder why???

Anyway... take care...

Instead of mine... I offer you someone elses words.

I will not forget.

I will not forgive.

I am too much of a human for that...

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went--and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires--and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings--the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed,
And men were gathered round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other's face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain'd;
Forests were set on fire--but hour by hour
They fell and faded--and the crackling trunks
Extinguish'd with a crash--and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild birds shriek'd,
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl'd
And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless--they were slain for food.
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again;--a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought--and that was death,
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails--men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devoured,
Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answered not with a caress--he died.
The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage; they raked up,
And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other's aspects--saw, and shriek'd, and died--
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful--was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless--
A lump of death--a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirred within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp'd
They slept on the abyss without a surge--
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon their mistress had expir'd before;
The winds were withered in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them--She was the Universe.

Lord Byron

I can't...

I have to admit that I was selfish... expecting that you will express at least something as a response to my silence.

Like children we are. Funny… we used to be so grown up when we were together… now, since I departed… it is like we went back to the past, at least ten years to it… making silence treatment to each other instead talking things through… as we used to do…

This afternoon I took myself liberty to sleep… again… closed my eyes as I went deeper into the pillow… and something took me back to out first night together… I could almost feel your fingertips on my forehead, nose… down to the chin… your breath trapped in my hair… I almost could feel your presence… next to me… and that fucking scent of your body, hunting me down for days now… and it hurt… it really did… the pain came unexpectedly and it was real… physical one… like something grabbed me and made every single nerve in me twist underneath the skin… I hated you at that moment… and I wanted you… badly…

I am learning how to function on parallel tracks… the consciousness one which is still effective… concentrated and worth of money they pay me to do my job… and that other one, which enjoys using your language in stupid feeling that it makes me closer to you… when the job is done… I sit quietly since there is nothing I want to say…to anyone around me. Luckily I still have that job so I won’t forget to talk…

You would be very ashamed of me to know this, I know… you would tell me awful things, forcing me to take part in my own life… but, the thing you don’t know is that this IS my life… since I came back… it is not worth pretending that I am interested in belonging to anything, that I wish for meaningful conversations with people… I don’t. I really, really don’t.

 Most of the times I just want them to leave me alone so I can sleep. Not cry or think how miserable I am (I had my share of those already)… but just sleep, and oversleep my own time… and wake up one morning as a completely new person… or if that cannot be… never to wake up…

I hate fairy tales. Reasonable part of me knows that those do not exist. So, when someone tries to comfort me by offering an illusion or a fairy tale… I smile, quietly… but I scream inside… I scream loudly: Stop! Stop that shit! What fairy tale!? Fairy tales do not exist! That is why they’re called fairy tales! They do not exist! Do you hear me? They do not exist! They are just wide spread because of people, desperate people in need of hope, in need to believe…like religions… like ideologies… they are there to provide false feeling of “it has to be okay”… and it doesn’t… it doesn’t have to be okay…and it never is…

But I stay quiet… wishing that at last once I can also make myself believe and try if this “people medicine” actually does something on that other level of perception…since mine is terribly cruel.

You are not Prince Charming. At all. You are not that good looking… nor you are the smartest person ever, you are sometimes awfully immature and you knew how to make me crazy with certain observations. You are not Prince Charming… and I am not a Princess either. I am quite aware of that fact!

You know what else? You are not my type either… you never were… and you knew that. Statistically you should have been completely different. Wild. Mysterious. Bitter. Male bitch. You should have been experienced and protective. And you are not. Not. Not. Not.

So, let’s see… we know that fairy tales do not exist, that you are not Prince Charming, that you are not my type of the guy… hmmmmmm… well, yes, sex was great, and I enjoyed talking to you, I really did… but it cannot be that there are not better lovers or more interesting people. Okay, you did make me feel unique and feminine and safe… but I can always hire a fool, a waiter and a bodyguard for that. So you are nothing special…

Neither am I.

Than, why the hell I feel like this? I am not used to it. I don’t want it. Take it away. Remove it. As you infiltrated-now remove it! Remove completely out of my system. I don’t want you… I never wanted this. I wasn’t the one staying home wishing for a perfect match… I wasn’t the one making plans for marriage and wedding dress and three kids jumping around kitchen in couple of years. I wasn’t that person… never ever… so, please, remove those shaming feelings out of me.

I hate you tonight. I hate you with all my forces. And even more I hate myself…

I have opened windows widely… wishing you are here so you can see and feel this beautiful day in Belgrade…

The air is mild and it smells of wakening up… guess it is that smell that brings me back to myself couple of years ago… when I was sitting in this same position, in the same chair in front of computer… but with such a different feeling.

Déjà vu… cigarette, black coffee, music… words… and this Belgrade air, fulfilling and overwhelming at the same time…

I am calm today. Completely, almost scary calm.

Perhaps, it was the peaceful morning I needed, or that goodbye without words which I said yesterday to Us. Whatever it was, it brought calm and peace to me today.

Silence.

Capability to talk and express myself is lost… all I can do is this… making invisible thoughts in someone else’s virtual reality. Not mine. I don’t have reality… at least not one that I like.

Therefore, I am not …

At all…

But that is not the issue here.

We don’t have an issue any more.

At least, I don’t have it.

Beautiful day.

So bright. So clear, although not thanks only to the weather…

Wish you were here… not with me… but somewhere here…near… to turn around yourself, take a deep breath and become Belgrade as I am from the day I was born. I am quite convinced that it is enough for someone like you just to take a deep breath, a quick glimpse… to become Belgrade itself… if anyone, you are able to do that…

Anyway… just wanted to say that… you know…

Have no idea if you know that tonight is Orthodox Christmas Eve…

Unlike good Christians I spent it cursing and wishing that it is all gone.

I have never been an example of good person in religious terms.

Have no idea why, either…

While I was trying to act in consistence with demands of humanity, as known through the Holly Book… I got punished over and over again (to use dictionary of perfect believer which I am most certainly not).

For instance, I was trying at least not to do any of the mortal sins if I couldn’t follow the orders… and occasionally I would manage to avoid them… but instead of ignoring my existence (which is the only thing I’ve ever wanted from Him to do) He would pay attention deciding obviously that I should be negatively stimulated (understatement I know)… and than He would send me… well… not too good things anyway.

So, I’ve decided to become agnostic… thinking that if I don’t pay attention to Him, He won’t pay it to me either… Bitter mistake.

As He wanted my attention so badly that it got even worse.

Therefore, I got religiously confused. Too loyal to try different option, too scared to ignore, too suspicious to become a perfect believer… what to do?

When I came to your part of the world I was pretty much even-hearted. You might say that I was in peace with almost anything, decided not to be surprised, thinking that I saw it all…

Can you guess what He did next? He sent You to wait me in front of the gate, helping me to settle, taking me to those long walks filled with meaningful conversations, a lot of good laughs, discrete compliments, high quality music, cute smiles, hot nights… walking emotional disaster…

So you did…all that… unified two religions in one single sweet smile… little Anglican became an instrument of Orthodox revenge to my ignorance and vanity. I am just waiting now for someone to tell me about two or more Gods… I would immediately ask about this perfect example of the One.

It is one hour less in your world than in mine… Sunday evening… I can almost see you lying in that old flowery sofa in the TV room, waiting for your favourite Car Show to start… before that I suppose that you’ve enjoyed potatoes in 101 way prepared, served on silvery shining plates in the Mess. After, you will probably check mail once more telling yourself that I might answer saying that I am sorry or whatever… than you will go to the right wing of the House, take a quick hot shower and smelling like a CK’s One you will crawl into the bed with the exactly the same blue blanket as the one that we used to use in my room while I was ... You will wear white T-shirt since you hate being half naked in the bed and you will fall asleep lying on your back… as always…

You see, I know it all…you will turn few times underneath that blanket torturing yourself with weak guilty feeling about us; you will try to runaway from those by evoking nice moments…usually those in which we didn’t need any words to understand each other… and eventually… you will peacefully fall asleep… I know it all… I know even how your face would look like depending on a quality of dreams you are having in particular moment… I know the speed and depth of your breath if you dream happily… I know that first thing in the morning you will reach to the right with your left hand… that you will be completely awake with the emptiness on that right side, emptiness you are not used to… you will tell yourself that you’re a fool, you’ll be angry at yourself for couple of minutes and than at me for a moment or two… than you will look at phone to see the time… and jump out (you always do) right to the gym…

Half nine in the morning you’ll be perfectly dressed up in the office checking mail again, fighting ideas such as replying to imaginary letter…

You see, I know it all…

Now… if I have proven that I can be a forecast teller I’ll ask Him … will You make just one single wish come true for me?????

Please, and I am seriously asking You this… will You please forget that I exist… so I could forget it too????

I spent certain amount of time today watching photos… since Fireworks Night right to our last day spent in Bath… couple of months condensed in couple of hundreds of photos…

Couldn’t laugh, although I started going through them with the exact idea of offensive laughter and annihilation. Somehow, I couldn’t laugh… although I was prepared to do so and to sacrilege every single memory I still have. Memory of you… your eyelash-smile, your scent, the way you touch and that bloody tattoo on your back… every single little thing which is deeply rooted in my f*cked brain.

But… I couldn’t laugh… nor could I cry… I never cry… so I didn’t today either…

Work is still my way out of us… my asylum… safe place I can hide in… and I do so especially during these long winter nights which have embraced Belgrade since I came…

Snow is still not melting… and its whiteness is offensive for my eyesight… crazy chick… I am again in the mood when I hate white, purity and anything that even subconsciously evokes illusions…

Don’t think that I am angry… no! I couldn’t be angry at you… I guess that I am still too grey to hate someone like you… especially having in mind that it wasn’t your fault, but mine… I don’t avoid acknowledging that… or admitting it to anyone.

It was my fault.

And if you may say that I hate anyone…that should be me… myself and I…

The funny thing for sure is the fact that there is a direct ratio between the silence I am expressing to you… and the audibleness I perform here… in my virtual reality where I am as anonymous as I might ever wish to be, and where I can allow myself to say and do all the things I would never in reality we both belong to.

Now I am just blabbing without any sense…

Never mind…

Anyway...take care...

xxx

Now, let’s stop playing games… I am not in the mood nor am I capable in playing anything but truth, whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Perhaps it is about me… I have no idea…not that smart I guess… but I am quite convinced that it is…it was... the only way to deal with the issue we had.

I allow the possibility that I’ve offended you by choosing other than us… I also allow the option that I didn’t feel like you’ve offered a real choice… perhaps I was wrong… it can easily happen…I don’t pretend to know everything or to own the truth. It was my call… you left me too much space to feel needed…and I made a call… I left for a “higher cause”, my higher cause, therefore the only higher cause I acknowledge as such… and as I’ve already said two weeks ago… my higher cause was feeling of usefulness. If it wasn’t you/us… it had to be something else… so I left in need for being useful.

Perhaps it was my mistake not being open enough in explaining what exactly I need… or you were shortsighted for overseeing the basic facts lying in front of you…

Do we have anything from it? No… we both know we don’t…

The funny thing is that it wasn’t all over… at least not until today… even when I left… it wasn’t over in my head… and if you had only felt it, it might have been completely different…

You don’t understand?

Let me explain… simplify, because you obviously need it…

Even yesterday… if you have just called/texted/wrote that you needed me… or anything similar… as easy as I have packed and left you… I would packed and leave everything here… forgetting how much I fought for certain goals, substituting one dream with another… but the essence had to remain the same…

You failed to notice that. You failed to read between the lines. You failed to see how much I needed you… Therefore, you will understand why it is over for me… now…

And why I have decided to write these semi-public letters which you will never read, instead of writing them to you, directly… you will understand, eventually, I guess…

Such a pure day… day without tears, one in a line…day without highs and lows… just one blank page, one straight line… to follow, to go…

Take care

xxx