You moved on and I stayed. You moved on to better lives, better partners, more meaningful relationships and I stayed. I stayed here, where I always was, the clown, the entertainer, the joke that I am, waiting to cheer up others, but everyone moved on. I am still here, where I always stood, alone, battered, and broken. I miss your kindness, your love, your care. I miss the mornings with you, the emotional spark that we had, the moments of joy and understanding. I miss calling you all up, getting a message from you, getting love letters and everyday love-poems, the ones we play that only when we look back do we realise what an intricate poem of love it was. I miss those rhythms, those rhymes. I miss the bond we had, the mornings we got up late or rushed to work, the bewildering sex we had, seeing my postcard on your walls, seeing my mark in your lives. It’s all gone now. All of it, the postcards, the small marks. You moved on, and I stayed. I can’t move, I don’t want to move. I’m tired and battered and I’ve had enough. I’m lonely, after all these years of love and care, I’m alone again.

I feel alone, again. It’s been a while. I remember those stretches of time, the feeling of loneliness extending into eternity. The feeling that nothing works and there is nobody to console me. The feeling of being rejected. That I, once again, don’t belong. I miss the times in my old hometown where I could just phone some friends up, drink a beer and enjoy the spring. I miss the times of going on dates, meeting new people, going down for a good music, randomly meeting friends. I miss having a beautiful apartment, I miss my cat. He was so good to me, and I was so horrible to him. I feel in a statis of nothing moving, nothing changing, no challenges other than having to wait and wait more. I waited twenty years to be outside of the home where I grew up and I hated it. I don’t want to wait any longer. I want to live.

It was a good night. I’ll remember that as long as I live. In the taxi, putting my hand on her had, in that kitchen, kissing her neck, slowly caring for each other’s bodies, and being woken up with a kiss. Oh, that was so amazing. I want to be there again, wake up to that again. She was really kind that night and morning. It was an exciting time, the conference, her, the lights outside, the yurt. Life seemed exciting and adventurous with a million things to explore and realize. Now it seems monotone, boring, everyday.

And wake up where the clouds are far behind me. That place exists. I have seen it. It was right next to me when we were driving down that road and she started crying. It was there on the last day of my stay, on the bed, listening to Arovane. It was there in that box I gave her with a pair of comfy shoes I found. It was there, in that small box she gave me with beautiful thoughts in it. And it was there, on that warm evening at that installation of Stella, when we first saw it. And it was there on that warm summer morning at the park near the lake. I remember that place.

I wonder if life is nothing but a set of moments when we get to experience the beauty that captures us, that captures our imagination, that drives us to do more, see more, feel more. Beauty that lets us hurt more, love more. These moments are products of the everyday, the unplanned, the unexpected. I miss these moments. They drive me to see more in this world, to see what it has to bring rather than what it has to take. Through this lens I get to see the people, the places in a different, softer light. It’s been a while I saw such light, it’s been a while I have let myself go and closed my eyes enough to allow my imagination to wander and see more than what the naked eye could see…

Today I opened my box of food that arrived and I felt that I need to share that with A. I live this sheltered life, everything is going fine, except that I have nobody, I’m alone and it’s like having no anchor, no place to come back home to and explain how I feel, tell how I see things, just talk about stuff that happens with me. It’s as if now everything was right except something was off, an elephant in the room that I try not to look at but it’s hard to avoid. Lots of things make no sense. Finally I’m actually making money, putting things aside, have a “comfortable” life and I’ll leave this behind for something exciting and interesting and beautiful but also in a way back to the old days of being worried about making ends meet. I feel lost and everything seems very scary. Staying, leaving. I can now see how much I could do, I can see that I can be worthy, but I also see that it takes others to see how much I can be worth, and I don’t know what the future will bring. I’m afraid. And I really-really need to be with my love.

These days are difficult. Before I met her I didn’t know, but now I do, that there is something really beautiful to look forward to. Just today as I was about to get on my bike, I thought about, as I sometimes do, having an accident. And I realized that although I used to care about myself in general, I actually never really cared about having an accident. I didn’t seem to have felt as if I had to loose anything by getting hit, maybe going to a hospital, maybe worse. Not that I don’t enjoy this life — I do, and I always did, but it just wasn’t that valuable. I didn’t see much change in it, it felt repetitious. The biggest change I ever saw was that once I got out of high school, aggression and violence was gone. But nothing much has changed between then and when I met her. It’s interesting to think that a decade can go by and everything can stay at a standstill. It seems it’s only through relationships that we can truly change.

She will be different. I will be different. Who is awaiting me? Are we just spending time next to one another? Can she still challenge me? Can I still challenge her? Are we just good memories for each other? Will we break down in each others’ arms? Who will I see? I don’t know. I’m afraid I will be with her like I have been with everyone else lately — superficial, empty, meaningless. I am not sure where I went, what happened. It slowly, slowly crept up on me. The emptiness. The laziness of trying to do things. I’m slumping into dark matter. I’m not getting anywhere. It’s crept up on me so surprisingly slowly. I don’t know what I’m doing. Looking at stupid websites, spending time with useless things. Just meaningless things. I didn’t use to do that… And nobody can fix that. I must fix myself…

The counter says 17 and I’m happy. Only 17 days and I’ll see you. I want to be there, exiting the plane, you waiting for me. I want to be there and I want to hold you, love you, kiss you, smell you. Hold your hand on the way home. Sleep next to you. Wake up in the middle of the night just to see that you are there. Cry without you seeing, in the middle of the night. Telling you how much you matter to me. Explain to you how I have been changing, how I now understand so much more about work culture and hierarchy. How I have matured but at the same time I lost some of that childish, young spirit of trying to change everything. How I feel like an older person now. I want to tell you about how I changed and I want to see all the beautiful change that you have went through. I want to see you working, leading. I want to be in your garden with you, just laying down on the grass, looking at the sky and forget about everything and just enjoy that you are there, with me. It’s so close, it’s so amazing and exciting!

You sailed away and I stayed behind, you went to a far-off land, into the wild and I stayed. You are far away now, as days go by I feel more and more alone. When I hear your voice, it’s distant. The phone cuts out to remind me that you are not here, and I cry. As I feel you getting further and further away in the wilderness, I wish I could be there, but it’s a false wish. It’s you who has to make that choice. And you have made your choice, you have decided to be away. I need your hand to touch, your shoulder to sleep on, but I’m stranded here on the seashore and all I can see are the waves crashing and smell the faint memory of your perfume on my pillow.

You sailed away and I stayed behind, you went off to find yourself and I’m stranded here, dreaming of you, wishing that you had included me in your adventure.

No time for me. I miss that time. It’s time stolen from me. I feel like I felt before: having a partner without the other person truly caring. I’m in this something that doesn’t help me move forward with my life. It’s just eating me, draining me. I wish I was better, I wish I could be there with her. I feel like wasting time, energy. I want to build a life, and I’m not managing. I put myself in harder and harder situations, I make my own life a living hell. I want to get out of this, but there is no easy way out. The easy way out just seems easy but is riddled with its own problems. The hard way is the only way, but I’m tired and very-very lonely. I know I can give — she gave that to me, that knowledge that there is more out there and it’s possible for me to attain it. I’m just not sure how much time it will be, how much I will have to work on myself to get there. To have a life worth living.