Like a fly in a room, not finding my place, I’m stuck in a new city and I’m lost. She’s gone, in a far-off place and my life, structure, all those things I cherished have been chucked out of the window for absolutely nothing. It’s a desolate place here with no place to stand, and there are lots of things that I must do before I can say that I have arrived. It’s lonely and hard and I’m tired. I miss her, I miss our lives together, I miss my security, my job and myself.

She gave me a note and I had cried over it. It lists all the beautiful, amazing things we have done together. All those things that hold me so close to her. I miss her touch, her leather backpack she’d always wear, her happy being, holding me dearly, cycling around with her, looking into her eyes and seeing that someone values me. I miss that I could trust her with all of me, that I could be the most vulnerable to her. And I’m missing her vulnerable moments and soft explanations of things I don’t understand, her care and affection, her tender side that I think few see. I see her breaking down at the airport and I want to hold her and tell her that it’s okay to break down and okay to be vulnerable, because that’s what matters in this world, nothing else, just truly being with someone. And I want to tell her that I would never hurt her, and that I will always love her. Always because there is nothing I can think of that could overcome this, not even time. I have never been this close to anyone, ever. Nobody loved me this softly, tenderly, truly, like her. I will miss being open. Now that I have seen the gates of heaven it’s hard to see anything else and see value in it. I feel like everything else is just a facade, a gray version of what I saw in full colours, a poor imitation of the true love I had a glimpse of. It’s hard to put this into words, but I miss her more than I miss my own life that I also left behind. I want spend a day with her. Eat breakfast with her. Roll around in bed with her. Explore my new home city with her. Cycle around with her and talk about art, music, love, friendship, sexism, philosophy or just everyday things that bother us. I want to see her calm me down and make me happy. I want see her happy.

I’m lost as what to do. Leaving this place, leaving my life, my love, behind. I’m leaving yet she is the one who wanted to leave me. I see her disengaging, I see her drifting further and further away and I’m powerless to stop it. I’m just standing here on this side of the tectonic plate and all that seem to have true meaning is drifting away, I can feel it every day. It’s agonizing — sometimes all I can do is look away, look down, and feel sad. These past days have shown me how powerless I am, how I have no control over anything in my life, how it’s all a show where I pretend to play the protagonist but in fact I have no way of changing anything around me. I feel like Rosencrantz from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead — even though I’m the main act, I feel like a side act where everything is decided by others and all I can do is observe. Things make no sense, there is no direction, there is no place to run to. My place is moving and I’m moving along. I don’t know what’s coming and what I had, what I still have, is immensely valuable and I’m not sure I’ll have it again.

As I was looking at my DSL box, it showed all the names of the devices that connected in the past years. Casually looking through the list I was struck. There they were: I saw A, and M, and S and others. All of them, in neat, alphabetical order, as if it was possible to make concrete sense of such intricate, fragile memories. As if it was possible to simply associate a number to and list them in a neatly ordered list.

Suddenly they were all here, and I remembered the moment when I give them my WiFi password, I remembered their phones, I remembered waking up next to them, I remembered it all. Those beautiful mornings, rolling over in bed to kiss them, smelling them, gently caressing them. There is a saying that “Home is where the WiFi connects”. I wish it was true. I wish this place, my place, was home to them all. Alas, that was not to be the case. But I’m glad they were here, and though it was painful to see them on that list, it was a reminder of beautiful times, times when I not only believed, but sensed, magic.

At a terrible jazz concert she came back to me. I remembered this time, when we were at her house, a beautiful loft overlooking a quiet neighborhood. We smoked cigarettes outside on her large balcony, talked, held hands, listened to music inside, had sax against the large, top-to-bottom window, but mostly I remember that she was waiting for me, at home, having made delicious food for us. It was a moment that struck me, because I rarely feel like someone does something just for me. It felt like I was on her mind, that she was really looking forward to seeing me. That I mattered to her.

I remembered her amazing style, her quiet way of talking, her sadness that was rarely visible. I remember the last night, riding home with her, being so distant. I miss her. I want to go back to the last night and give her an ecigarette so she could still smoke but would do less harm to herself. I want to go back to the night she cooked for me. I want to go back there and hold her, tell her that she matters and that we can try to do something together. That there is a future for us on this planet. I regret having lost her…

There is no absolution. There is nothing we can do about what we have done, it’s ordained for us, set in stone, our future is a function of the past with no exceptions, no way out, a long stretch of road behind us marking our mistakes, highs and lows, without a way of making really sense of it other than forgetting. Forgetting the beautiful heights and remembering the deep bottoms, the everlasting hurt that one can never heal.

Se jönni se menni nem tudok, csak várom, várom a sötétet, várom a fényt, hogy eljöjjön, felrázzon, hogy megérthessem újból, fellélegezhessek, hogy élek, létezem. A várakozás nem tesz jót, félek, tartózkodom, s ugyanakkor várom, várom már hogy itt legyen, megjöjjön, hogy végre láthassam és a szemébe nézhessek, átölelhessem és a közelébe lehessek. Várom és félek.

The past is gone. As I dream about the past year, it has been a long, beautiful ride. I had the opportunity to meet amazing people, get close to some, learn to believe in myself more, trust my senses and to be more gentle with people around me. A wonderful, hurtful, open, exploratory year with many surprises, deep depths and explosive heights and lots of adventure. I’m looking forward to another one, hopefully just as living and meaningful as the past one.

Je sais, il y a la vie privée, mais la vie privée, elle est boiteuse pour tout le monde. Les films sont plus harmonieux que la vie, Alphonse. Il n’y a pas d’embouteillages dans les films, il n’y a pas de temps morts. Les films avancent comme des trains, tu comprends? Comme des trains dans la nuit. Les gens comme toi, comme moi, tu le sais bien, on est fait pour être heureux dans le travail de cinéma.

A long conversation with a friend and I’m strangely calm. Some things cannot be forced and one simply has to accept them. Otherwise, the illusion of control takes over, leading to nothing but frustration and disappointment. I should practice more meditation…