Day 1

 

Today, is the day I gave up on you.

I’ve never been enough.
Not strong enough.
Not pretty enough.
Not forward enough.
Not patient enough.
Not captivating enough.

And, as cliché as it may sound, it’s not you. You have been nothing but kindness, understanding and good humour (and everyone knows how weak I am for anyone that makes me laugh). I’ve lived for the saying “Good things come to those who wait.”…But I reached a point in my life where I need reassurance. I ceased playing games and waiting for things to move on their own accord. I want everything and I want it now!

I know you’re not quite there yet (if ever you were, in the first place…I’ve been loosing my touch on how to read people)…
So, today, I decided this would be the last day.
The next time we meet, I’ll just be that girl you like to talk to once in a while, the one who’s always complaining about how life is unfair. The butterflies will have settled and the eagerness to see your face will have died down.
The conversations will be less and less, till the day we only remember each other on birthdays…and even those, time will be sure to erase once in a while.
I’ll go back to empty inboxes, melancholic tunes and romance novels.

Life will go on. It never waited for anyone either way.

One day, in the years to come, I will find this little note, in an old notebook, and I will remember your smile. And in that day, maybe you’ll finally hear about me again.

Breathe

“Breathe, idiot.”

As if waking from a dream, she forcefully let the air enter her lungs.

“I swear I can’t understand how you just forget to breathe sometimes. It’s kind of scary you know?”

“I’m sorry.”

There was a ghost of a smile playing in her lips.

“Sometimes I get so deep in my thoughts I don’t remember how to function. It’s a bad habit, I know. Sorry.”

” You worry too much. That’s the problem. “

” Yeah…Sorry. “

” And you say sorry too many times. “

” Sor-… “

She pursed her lips as to forcefully stop the word from leaving her mouth. Her eyes downcast, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt and silence.

This was not how things were supposed to be, at this point in her life.
She was not supposed to feel lonely, insignificant and impotent.
Right about now life should have been full of opportunities and bliss! These were the years she should be making memories to tell her grandchildren about one day. But so often did her mind wonder through doubts, disappointment and pain.

He kept his gaze on her the whole time, without turning his face in her direction.

Since when had he been watching from the corner of his eye? Days…months…years, maybe?
There she was in her own thoughts once again. Only God knew what she’d been thinking so hard about these days.

Yes, she hadn’t been like that – aloof, moody and self-depreciating – all her life. This was just a phase, for certain. He just didn’t know how to help her get out of it. That’s what frightened him the most.

She had been his light in the dark, his safe port, his home, his shoulder to lean on. And now that she needed the same from him he was incapable of understanding what was missing.
His affection – he dared not call it “love” with the utmost fear of rejection – had been growing for quite some time and, nowadays, it was difficult (if not straight impossible) to imagine life without her subtle smiles, her spontaneous phone calls and the way her hand so delicately touched the line of his jaw whenever she kissed his cheek.

Every movement, every touch, every word of hers was kindness and love and light.

As the moth to the flame, her pull was naturally irresistible. And he found himself trapped in it quite often.

Ironically enough she had always been a free spirit. Never tied to anyone, always in search of something she, herself, couldn’t quite put into words. Many had tried to catch her in their hands – some more delicately than others – but each one of them had failed to understand that she wasn’t supposed to be grounded unless she wanted to. As a result, they had been left confused and empty handed when she slipped right between their fingers.
Perhaps that was the reason he had never tried to close his fingers around her. She was so much more beautiful when she danced freely in his hand. Even when she ultimately confused him by not ever trying to leave his palm.

He looked at her and amused himself with the fact that now she was breathing normally. His words had always somehow had that effect on her. They always triggered an immediate response, be it physical or verbal. Another aspect of her personality that intrigued him. There were so many signs, gestures that assured him of her inclination towards him…but his fear of the consequences and the lack of control over what might happen when he finally approached her, had always frozen him on the spot.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes never left her face and he watched as she quickly turned her gaze to him, looking somehow surprised and confused at the same time.

There was a brief moment of silence, where her eyes kept asking him why he had uttered those same words he had reprimanded her for minutes ago. Her mouth opened as if to finally give voice to the question in her eyes.

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t have said it. At least not like that. You’re not an idiot. It’s just that I really get worried when you stop breathing like that…”

He was fully facing her now.

And there she was, not breathing again.
The warmth and sincerity in his tone catching her by surprise, her mouth involuntarily opening to speak…just to close in the next second and for her head to swiftly return to its previous position – eyes glued to her lap and the fidgeting of her hands resuming.
Overwhelmed by the pure feeling of affection in his own voice, he almost missed her quiet one.

“I know this is going to sound embarrassing, but I want to say it…I don’t do this all the time, you know…? There’s a reason for it…Ah, this is so embarrassing!”

She sighed quite loudly, but before he could reassure it was fine even if she didn’t tell him, she spoke again, still looking at her hands.

“Let’s get this over with! It’s you…I don’t know why but when I think about you being here with me, I get all weird and I stop breathing and I’m sorr-“

“You say sorry too many times, I told you.”

While she had been ranting he had closed the already tiny space between them and his hand had rested on her fidgeting ones.

When she finally looked at him, his face was millimeters away from hers. And when his lips gently touched her own, she stopped breathing all together again.

Afraid he had been too hasty, he reluctantly retracted his face, but couldn’t help the words leaving his mouth.

“Breathe, idiot.”

She gasped for air then.

“I’m sorry if I was too hasty-“

Her forehead suddenly collided with his chest, knocking his breath away. And after a few seconds of silence, her voice rough with emotion, she whispered.

“I’m not an idiot. And you say sorry too many times.”

Surprised, he felt her gently wrap her arms around him and smile.
A few seconds of silence followed.

“Breathe, idiot.”

Finally wrapping his arms around her as well, he smiled and contentedly sighed.

Saudade…

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I needed a shoulder today…
I needed a hand and a bit of our comfortable silence.
I needed to look into your eyes and feel understood.
I needed to whine about the weather, about how bad I had slept, about the lack of coffee in the morning.
I wanted to laugh at silly jokes and make puns the way only you know how.
I longed to start my day with a half asleep “Good morning!” on the lips, dancing rock & roll and smearing glitter on my face, while your skin got several shades darker.
There is so much I miss about those days…but, mostly, I miss you. I miss the person I was while we existed in that little corner of ours. It was our home for a little while. And we were happy, weren’t we?

Easy game

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She could never quite understand how things were so easy for the people around her.

How one touch, a flirty look, playful talk and loads of alcohol were all they needed to loose themselves to one another.

Don’t get me wrong, she had had her fair share of happily inebriated nights…but never had she been capable of that.

In her mind and, most importantly, in her heart there was a sacredness and rawness to the act of making love that she could never associate with that kind of fun.

Independence

Lately, there’s this loneliness in life that I’ve gotten used to.

My mom often tells me I’ve always been an independent girl: quit using a pacifier or a diaper, I did them all of my own free will. At the early age of three, I even decided my mom was never to pick my clothing for me ever again! Result: a few dubious colour and fabric combinations and nothing but patent leather shoes (to this day, I’m still trying to figure that one out…).
With such a strong independent spirit, it was no surprise to my family that I rarely asked them for advice or help. Even when I should have, really.

Now that I’m older, and the things I want are a little more complicated to obtain than a piece of chocolate, a Barbie or a gummy bear, it’s really difficult to rely on my parents.

I crave for my own space, where I can live alone and have everything my way; I long for the day I can finally have a driver’s license and a car of my own; Or simply the day I can finally pay my own vacation to wherever my heart yearns to go. But, unfortunately, the career a chose for myself – although the thing I love the most in this world – it’s not the easiest when it comes to rewarding the people who intensely work hard and give everything of themselves for their craft. That’s when I have to forget my so desired independence and ask for help. And, quite fortunately, it’s always there. My parents have always been the kindest, most supporting people in my life and, for me, they will always come first. They’re my heroes on the journey of life and every sacrifice they’ve ever done for me is engraved in my bones (not because they like to remind me of it, but because I always made sure to take note of them). So, as much as it pains me to depend on them, their love and the freedom which they allowed me to grow with, has no price. And that’s why I stay.

That leaves me with one option, when it comes to independence: love.

Tough one, is it not?

I’ve always believed I would find someone I’d truly love and would let me be me.

So far, my quest to find this so called “perfect love” has been fruitless. Some people have crossed my path, but they never stayed for too long. And, curiously enough, I was always the one left behind.

You could say I got my independence on love. Tough luck that loneliness had to come hand in hand with it. And the kind that makes you question all the decisions you ever made in your life, or sometimes even your own character as a person. The kind that has shared my bed, my thoughts and my heart for quite some time.

The main point of all this talk about independence is quite simple.

And now I’m speaking to you, Mr Nobody.

The next time we meet in the path of our so busy and rushed lives, of you I ask this only: love me. Love me as hard as I know I will love you. When things get hard and complicated, don’t give up on me easy, because I will be fighting with all that I have (even though you cannot see it at times). And when the storm finally ends and the breeze of spring starts to get warmer, there will be an endless summer in my heart. Only then, will I be finally able to say:

“I don’t mind losing a little piece of my independence, if it means I’ll always have you by my side.”

When the time comes

I’m still looking for you.

Some days I imagine meeting you in one of my train rides. A reflection in the window, eyes locking and time standing still. But I was never good at starting conversations, and for some unknown reason, most people find me quite difficult to approach, so I give up the idea entirely.

Loud music and heavy drinking in overcrowded places were never my kind of fun, so, although I have entertained the idea of meeting you in a club, I know it would probably never happen.

I used to think I would meet you in a coffee shop, in a rainy day.

There’s something about the rain and the smell of freshly brewed coffee that I’ve always found romantic.

Because of my habit of getting everywhere ridiculously early, I would be waiting for a friend and you would enter exactly when I start to become impatient at their tardiness. Your hair wet, because men never cared for umbrellas anyway, but a childish smile in your face. And when your eyes scan the room, probably to find someone who’s been waiting for you, like I have been for my friend, our eyes lock and your smile slowly disappears. Time stands still once again. That’s when I realize the awkwardness of the situation and turn my eyes away from yours, only to find that, when the courage to look at you again resurfaces, you’re walking to the counter with a smile even more childish than the one you had when I first laid eyes on you – I’ve always been weak to honest childish smiles, somehow. That’s when my friend finally enters and the spell is broken. The next thing I know you’re already out the door and another chance has flown by.

If I allow myself to be honest, I look for you everywhere. And, maybe, the sadness they say is always lurking in my eyes has it’s origin in the fact that, till this day, I have yet to find you.

Even so, take your time. Let your eyes search for my mine, as mine have been searching for yours. And when that time comes, I’ll be here waiting.