It occurred to me the other day that she speaks German and she just said it so nonchalantly, like it was the most normal thing. She didn’t have to learn it, yet she did. I want her to come to Istanbul with me, but I know she won’t. It’d be so nice, though. I’d love to be the person she can trust and be comfortable with, do stupid shit with, maybe find some tranquility with. It’d be so nice to wake up with her. We’d just spend the morning in bed, cuddle, tell funny stories, it’s be so cute and wonderful. I know it will likely never happen, yet I can’t stop myself from hoping that it did. Maybe hope really is the last frontier, the only thing left in Pandora’s the box. We can always hope for a better time. Maybe that’s what’s supposed to keep us alive. I think over the years I have lost some of that hope. It’s strange, to find it, in her.

She’s a bit crazy, just the right way, random, haphazard, but also warm and funny and smart. Distracted by everything and everyone, interested in so many things, cute and sort of don’t care sometimes, hilarious and slightly unaware of her surroundings, a force of nature. It’s just good, being close to her. She doesn’t know what she means to me, but I know, and it makes me happy to see her. I don’t want to miss her, and I am quite sure I’ll never even be close to her. It’s good to just look at her, when she’s around, and be happy that I’m there. It’s been a long time I felt like that. It’s been a long time.

Sometimes, we don’t know what are are to the other person. Maybe later we find out. Maybe we don’t. Life is so weird, what you mean to others is never clear, only maybe sometimes in hindsight, in the rear-view mirror. When we get lucky, we get to know. I’m sorry J, I messed up, I now know what I meant to you. It must have been so hard for you. I regret I didn’t, I couldn’t, love you. I’m so sorry.