I broke up with S and now all I feel is a big void. She’s not on my mind constantly, but I think of her, at night, and imagine how it would be to meet her again, in the far future. I long for her, I miss her joy of life, her love of nature, the way she talked about all the fun things happening around her and all the things that didn’t work out for her. I want to be there to share the joy or to console her, hug her strongly, lie next to her. She was beautiful, as always, the last time I saw her, with her new skirt and colourful coat, with a strongly coloured lipstick… it was hard to be there, to say goodbye when all I wanted was to be with her. But I had no choice, I didn’t want to become some sort of friend, meeting once in a while. It would have made me sad. So here I am, with my void, thinking of her, and how I am just a speck of dust compared to her. Thinking of how amazing a life she has with all the nice friends and parties, all that nature that she loves so much, with all the natural beauty she has, and how me and my life pale in comparison.

I looked at a video she showed me of an artist, and the moment came back to me when she was so happy to see me at a party of her friends. I remember her jumping on me from the back hugging me, being happy. I don’t understand why was she so happy, but it was a beautiful moment, a moment I long for now.

Yesterday I sent her a short movie clip. She won’t respond — she never does. In a way, she feels like L, far away, impossible to reach, yet close to me in my dreams. I have to quit, and I will, and I hope I’ll have the courage this time around. I’m having a little party and I don’t think she should be there. But I’m afraid that the moment I see her I’ll reverse my decision and will give up all the time I spent about thinking of her for an evening of seeing her next to me. Not even with me — just next to me.

I met someone I knew before, and… It feels weird. I’m not sure if she is just playing a motherly role or not but, first for some time, I feel interested in her, as a person. She seems to have a depth that is underplayed.  Feels unsure but honest. She is the kind of girl who probably has had a hundred guys waiting in the line — she is the troubled one, the one who is longing for something strong that  can take her and carry her. I see in her what I am: troubled but ready to give, emotionally weak but acting strong.

I promised to myself and I didn’t break up with her. I see a mirror of myself in her, the way I acted last year towards so many. With no regard to their feelings, to what they need or want, blind to what they could give me, and what they were giving me. Yet, just like them, I can’t muster the courage to say goodbye, I secretly hope she’ll soon miraculously realise what I could bring to her. It’s tormenting yet beautiful. Feels like trying to reach a mirage, a figment of my imagination that I project and strive towards. There is no end to the road yet it’s always in sight. It’s good to see the end and I don’t want to let go, like those in the desert who know full well what they see is not real, yet lie themselves into thinking that it is, and with new strength strive towards it. I just hope not share their fate.