"I have loved many women and men, but I loved none better than you [...]" - Walt Whitman
Church bells ring.
I was wondering why. It's almost Easter, isn't it?
They have a different sound in this country, happier and deeper.
It makes me think to a great sadness which is, however, covered in hope.
Compared with the sound of other bells which I heard before, this specific sound makes me feel different.
I like the beautiful fusion between good and bad. Between ending and an eternal beginning. It reminds me of my life and, most of all, it reminds me of us.
I started reading "The Alchemist". I was thinking about this book since summer, when your lips pronounced the name of it for the first time. When you, the guy who only used to hear stories about books from me, recommended me a book.
I wanted to laugh.
Now, I just smile.
I haven't feel so nervous about holding a book in my hands since I was little.
I lost that crazy feeling of wanting but not wanting to read something. When you are intrigued by a story but you are not sure if you actually want to finish it. Fear of disappointment but also the fear of reading something so amazing, knowing that it will be eventually over.
This time, I am afraid for a different reason.
I hold this book in my hands and I am scared because every word makes me think about you. Knowing that you read those words, I keep wondering what were you thinking while you were reading them, what meaning did you find?
I imagine you wearing your black shirt, behind the bar, moving the pages while you're moving your eyes, and thinking, imagining.
I like the story, but I am not sure if I want to finish it or not. I like thinking about you, but I am aware that it hurts my feelings, just as I am aware of the fact that I will finish the book, unable to exchange any idea with you, any thought.
I wish you could be in this bed with me, too big for a single soul, on your back, helping me to discover where that beautiful mind wanders. I will probably smoke a cigarette by the window, watching you. I can hear you making mean jokes about how I shouldn't smoke but I don't think I could hear them properly, because I would be too focused on your appearance.
Every time I had the chance to see you, I was so careful to remember every detail. It's like I knew, the entire time, that it will come a day when I won't be able to see you anymore.
Now, when I am indeed live this eternal fear, I am concerned that it might come a day when it will be so hard to remember your smile. Every day it gets harder to remember your laugh.
By reading this book I am trying to keep myself as close to you as possible.
And I know it sounds crazy.
But crazy is the life itself.
I have a new job. It makes me so tired, but I won't complain because I wanted it so badly. And it also reminds me of you. The only difference between then and now is that when I look behind the bar, there is no you.
When I make a cappuccino, all I can think about is how you made cappuccinos, and how you would criticize me for the way I am making it.
I wake up in the morning, before the sun gets the chance to warm this world a little bit. I have to walk through some kind of village, seems like a small forest, with a path in the middle of it. Do you remember how we were walking through the park, in order to get to work ? We didn't really take the bus, we were enjoying too much talking and walking in the nature. Seeing the lake, smelling the morning air.
Here, there is no bus.
But even if it would have been one, I would chose the walk because I like to see how the sky gets blue, to smell the daffodils, to observe the British old fashioned houses. Some of them are so beautiful. I am thinking about living there with you, it would be such a dream. Waking up and smelling the trees together, while you're making coffee. Then in the night time, talking about life while facing the warming fire of a chimney, making love somewhere between.
This would be a fulfilling life.
But the reality is so much different.
I walk on the hill, which takes my breath away. I am not really happy to work here, it makes me feel like a stranger. I am tired and my legs hurt. I can see so many cars and I am wondering where all this people go.
I serve a lot of tea. With milk, please.
When I finish, I walk down the hill, while looking at the dawn. The view's so beautiful. This nature makes me to believe in tomorrow.
I come back "home", it's all empty. I spend most of my days alone. I am not that bothered, after all, they took everything from me. Except your memory.
Two days ago, I had sex with someone. It wasn't even sex, it was just a forced physical interaction that I refused from the beginning.
The next they I woke up crying. The shower didn't take away all my disgust. I felt assaulted, covered in dirt. I didn't want to be this way, to end up like this.
Or when I was so drunk in the club that I fell. And I had to talk calm, trying to hide the unbearable pain which was exploding in my body. I still have the bruises. In the same night I took a shower with all my clothes on, I felt so sick.
I am glad, however, that all these things happen because now, I am going to keep myself alone, in order to avoid this horrifying experiences.
This is not me. I knew by then, just as I know now.
But there are so many things, so many thoughts, and there is no you.
Every time I feel so much disgust for the world, I remember that the world has you, so it can't be that bad.
I live with this deeply regret that I can't be with you and that I can't find a single soul who would treat me like I am more than an object, but I am trying to keep myself focused on things which really matter.
Such us our memory, such as myself.
I am working on that, and I will make us proud.
Lotus
