Waiting for the light

for her soft skin
to touch mine
and transport me

for her laughter
to make me smile
and elevate me

for her hair
to fall on my shoulder
and carry my weight

for my life to untangle
with her by my side

I’ll miss hearing about her life. I’ll miss worrying about her. The smell of her skin in the morning. Her challenging questions. Question that nobody dared to ask. Her play of words. The memories that came to me so often of us walking around in the city. I’ll miss missing her. Thinking of her while walking in an empty corridor. Remembering her in the middle of the workday, just like that, out of the blue. Her playfulness. Oh god, her playfulness. That mischievous smile of hers. Her backpack. How I loved that backpack. How it reminded me of her, her mum, her family. Her stories about her childhood. Giving her presents. Those were beautiful moments when I could get something she liked. Giving her flowers. All the weird and beautiful and amazing flowers I could get her. Waiting for her reaction to my gifts. The thought that I mattered to her. The thought that I mattered, to her.

I lost it. The fight. The fight for her. I lost it in my heart. I now see she doesn’t want to commit. I need to find someone who wants to. Who wants a life with me. With me only, who is ready to sacrifice for me. Who wants to do something together, build a life together. Who wants to commit. I need to settle down, get serious about my place, my life. And find someone to love who loves me. Who doesn’t belittle who I am, who we are. Who recognises the weight a relationship has. Who sees me worthy enough to spend a life with. I feel like I am back at square zero. I have learnt, and it will be somewhat easier. But I need to build it all again. I need to find someone I can love again.

I remember. I remember all the beautiful times. That time we were fucking against the full-frame window. That time we were at her room after the party, with her beautiful painting, forever half-finished, next to us. I remember touching her hand ever so slightly at Soupanova, a touch that would carry us for years. I remember that time when her panties were so wet she didn’t put them on when she left on that cold autumn day. I remember having trouble sleeping next to her in her amazing apartment, not knowing why, but I couldn’t enjoy having sex with her even though she was engaging and special and her body was stunning. I remember being outside on her balcony, smoking cigarettes, with something in the air: hope, beauty, the light of morning in the dark night. I remember her jumping on my back on that party, just being happy that I’m there. I remember biking to her place, along the Spree, crossing, visiting her amazing loft. I remember visiting her place for my birthday and she showing off her new high heels that she would never wear. I remember her touching my hand in the taxi on the way back from CCC. I remember her coming back from her parents’ place in the summer, wearing nothing but a white shirt and a rose skirt, meeting me at the door. I remember going to Tempelhof on that stunning summer day, her in front of me, blocking that strong sun, me saying something I will never regret.

And I remember HER. I remember all the amazing, beautiful times She has brought me. How she changed everything that is me. Her playfulness, depth, fragility, strength. What makes this place, this world, so amazing to live in.

I thought of it. How it would be without A. How it would be to leave, all of it, all the pain and misunderstanding and distance behind and just move on to something unknown and uncharted. She is under immense pressure and I seem to be taking it badly. She is rich and I’m poor, the money problem again, as always, the money the money, that everybody expects me to have but I don’t have. Sometimes I feel like no matter how much I earn will not be enough. I live in shitholes, I work hard, I moved away so I can earn more but it’s not good enough, it’s not, I need to earn more and be better, a better person a better lover and most of all be there where she is but she doesn’t want me there because that’s responsibility. No, she needs to be independent but now we are so far away. So, so far away. I can barely see her through all this cloud. I love her, or maybe just loved her, and I’m fading away, into some obscure memory, something that used to shine red hot but is just a normal guy, no future, no money, no nothing. I really need to start thinking about myself, about what I want in life and what I want to spend money on. Because this, chasing the light, the ever-elusive, ever distant speck of sunshine that is perpetually just about in reach — that will not do. I need to find someone who wants to commit, who is willing to truly sacrifice for me. Who will love me for all my stupid things and who won’t back up when I want to be more serious. I want someone who respects that I can’t pay for everything. I want someone who loves me. And is prepared to jump for me, into anything, anywhere. Give her life for me so I can give mine, for her.

I remember, today, riding back in the bus and just wanting to be with you. I have been having rashes of feelings lately, of loneliness, fear, sadness. I am feeling again what I felt last time when I accepted a job: the prospect of being away from you. I know we are far away and I know we are not supposed to change much about that unless it works for the both of us. I know. Yet there are things that are not about knowing. Sanity is a strange thing, comes and goes, seems to make sense at one point and has nothing but question marks at other times. Like when I think: what am I here to do in this world? I have been trying to be good to others, do best at what others ask me to do, enjoy myself, make people happy, yet when I look back, the most fulfilling moments have been moments with you. I’m looking forward to some of these moments…

A few days go I got this message that simply said, without any embellishments, how wonderful I am. It took a while for it to sink. Words are strange. They exist in a context that is inseparable from them yet we try our bests to separate and explain them. But they, like fragile flowers taken from the warm light of day, fade and loose something essential to their being. What makes this message so beautiful is the long, sometimes light and simple, sometimes deep and complicated, but always meaningful history it was produced, interpreted, and understood in. To me it truly signifies that I have something to give. And that makes me so happy that I start to cry.

Comes and passes slowly,
but when it matters,
I can count the seconds,
I can remember the moments,
like a million shining stars,
all the small things that happen,
are etched into my memory,
to come back and haunt me,
I’m a traveller in time,
passenger of my own past,
of good times, crying, laughter,
the joys of love.

I feel disabled. Incapable of doing the smallest things, because I don’t speak the language, I don’t live in a specific country, or I don’t know what to do and how to do it. It’s humiliating and I have nobody to help me. It would be so good if A was here. I would be happy I’m alive, I’d be happy I exist and I’d be sure things would go well. She’d tell me to just forget about the frustration and be happy for what I have. But she’s not here and I miss her and our time. I feel like I have wasted all that time with her by not seeing her more often. I feel like I should have been there, with her more, kissed her lips and hugged her beautiful body. I wish I was a better person who would plan more and so do more. I feel lost and lonely.

We are nothing but nature’s wild dream, raging lunatics who rebel against everything around us only to find that the real limits are what we set ourselves to do. Sometimes I feel like Empreor Norton, a crazy guy who lived in San Francisco and declared himself the Empreor of the US. Everybody thought he was crazy, but he was funny enough for people to tolerate, even revere him. Maybe we are all playing some character or another and the intricate balance of who we are and who we project to be interweaves with one another to give our own version of Empreor Norton. Maybe it’s time to break free of such characters and find one that is more open and cares less about goals and achievements. I would like to be more playful. I remember this moment I realized, looking at the sunny bright sky on a Sunday afternoon, that I missed these truly free moments when I was a child. There, in that park, I felt free. I want to feel like that again.