Here I am, right in the middle of it. Didn’t ask for it, didn’t think of it, just happened, I’m in it again, and it hurts. This time, I’m making it more complicated. Going away on a trip, with a flower I gave MH on my desk — they all leave their flowers here, and I can’t muster the courage to throw them away. The way she ignores and cares for me at the same time relentlessly going through my head. Impossible to untangle.

Last time I saw her, she didn’t even kiss me, but asked me what I did for Christmas last year and I remembered ML, my girlfriend at the time, how she really cared for me, and made last Christmas good despite everything. Yet I left her and didn’t much feel anything. She was good to me, in a soft, unspoken way. Never mentioned me all the stress at work or in her life, tried to be good to me always. Some deep sadness overcomes me at the thought of this. I have missed so much and thought so little of it

Which reminds me of MH. Not saying a word, just softly touching, not looking into the eye, just letting you read between the lines. I always thought I give more than what others gave me, but now I feel that maybe I have been giving the trivial, like flowers or a helping hand, but they gave me something more deep and I have not appreciated it at all. Because I haven’t even seen it.

Not long ago I met someone different. She is not comparable to anyone. Delicate and smooth, soft and passionate. Knows how to say things without talking. The first person I’ve met that said so much without a word. She doesn’t look into my eyes and yet says so much. It feels like I’ve been missing a whole dimension of life. I don’t know how she does this, it’s amazing. I’ve been with many women, but this is very strange and very new. I feel like a regular guy in a strange land. She is holding my hand and I’m following her and wondering how I haven’t seen this before. I feel very insecure with her. She is strong and independent and talks so little, I have trouble knowing what she is thinking. The language she speaks is so new to me, I feel lost. It’s mesmerizing and very dangerous.

I was just re-watching a film, “Now is good”, and one of the characters asks the other, what do you want? The other answers, but the answer seems to only touch the surface, and then the first character asks again… What do you really want? At this point, it came back to me. This is how I felt when she told me about a simple, but somehow important memory of hers. The honesty and non-theatricality of it struck me as somehow making an important moment easy to embrace.

It makes me sad she hasn’t replied to my last mail. I thought I was being good. I think that in these letters everyone can always see the real meaning, the words somehow covey more than the mere thought. The feeling is palpable. I often think of her. It’s interesting how I still care about her, how she is still real for me, even though I am probably nothing but a distant memory of hers. I find this asymmetry interesting, somehow mysterious, kind of like a question mark that permeates my everyday life. How can we mean so different things to each other if feelings are supposed to be common and shared?

I remember the second time we met, we were sitting on the couch, and my friend just left the room. We looked at each other, and started kissing. Until that point, I wasn’t sure what would happen between us the second time… she felt distant. Maybe I should have been more careful. But, why be so protective of oneself? It’s like living in a bubble: if you never try reaching out, you will never know where the walls are. The risks are that you burst the bubble — but at least you now know how that feels. I have to say: it feels really beautiful and sad at the same time.

I wish I could explain her. But there is nothing much I can explain, I’m afraid. She probably knows the feeling, and can’t do much about it. Just like me not being able to do anything about her not feeling the same way. It’s the reality of life, something I have been trying to evade for the past year.