So I’ve started reading other blogs. I thought maybe the rest of the world might have a word to share, and that maybe I would like to hear it. I think for too ling now I have been isolated from the world. I may live in another world, but I still have a word to say in this one, any more to listen to.
I haven’t really read any blog to be honest. But I have bookmarked some I found interested at first glimpse, to read later, on life, not today.
Instead, page elements caught my eye as I was going through blogs. This may be a blog I’m writing to you. But I may not always be in the mood for writing, and to adorn the blog is a good time spending. Not that I have any spare time. I just don’t feel like doing anything else but to be close to you, and so I come to my little hiding place, the little dreaming and longing place, the place I’m building so I can always have you with me, in my memory, even after my memory is gone.
I began looking for good ideas to further improve our space. Although this is for you, I thought maybe there would also be some room for me. After all, there are so many things I feel you don’t know about me, so many things I would like to share. And so many things about you I would like to know and may never get to.
And so I have found a blog and loved this idea. In the section ‘About me’ there was ‘100 things’ and ’40 questions’. I started writing the 100 things and it turned out to be 100 things, almost all about my love life. I have no idea why it ended up there, but it did. I called it bullet pointing my (love) live instead, and thought maybe I would have it as a regular post. I don’t know, haven’t decided yet. I then started to write another one, again for 1. or maybe from 3. or 4. or 9., I don’t know, but I think I haven’t finished. The one I ended up naming bullet pointing my life, also stopped being a numeration when I got to you… It’s too hard for me to write simple statements. Maybe because all this is yet very recent (depending on the perspectives), I always end up writing to you or about you, even when I’m suppose to be writing about me, about you I am.
I don’t see myself as a self without you with me, and so I can’t say anything about me excluding you. Somehow, the meaning of my life started being you. You don’t want to be part of this anymore, and I… I am so f***ing stupid I keep on putting me down, missing you, dreaming of the day I will see you. When? WHEN???
Time.
Imagine there was a section in blogs asking to characterise using, let’s say, 3 words. 3 words that could define the blog, the 3 most used words. No, let’s have 5, your favourite number. For this blog I think they would be:
1. Missing / Longing
2. Time
3. Stupid
4. Stupid
5. Girl
The problem with reading other blogs may be for me to found I’m not doing anything special. That there are millions, billions, trillions of other people able to do just the same, or much much better. And actually doing it.
What can I do? I will keep on doing my best. It won’t be easy. It’s never easy. But to write for an audience of one, when that one is not there to listen, is even harder I think.
Not an excuse. No, not an excuse. By best is what you will have. Nothing less. I own that to you, to me, and to our love, that was once so beautiful. At least as I see it.
When you love someone you should say it.
Will the consequences be what you want and expect? That’s a completely different thing. And not for you to decide.
No one should be put apart or mistreated for loving. For loving so sincerely, so deeply, so truly.
‘We should be friends for as long as you wish’, you said. Why have you then stopped speaking to me, answering my calls, returning my emails? As far as I’m concerned, I still wish us to be friends. Much more than friends, as it happens, but we can’t always have what we want.
Let me give you some beautiful words, wrote by someone who can write, and let us go to bed. Not together, unfortunately.
There are many many crazy things
That will keep me loving you
And with your permission
May I list a few
The way you wear your hat
The way you sip your tea
The memory of all that
No they can’t take that away from me
The way your smile just beams
The way you sing off key
The way you haunt my dreams
No they can’t take that away from me
We may never never meet again, on that bumpy road to love
But I’ll always, always keep the memory of
The way you hold your knife
The way we danced till three
The way you changed my life
No they can’t take that away from me
There are a few lines that don’t go well.
You don’t use hats anymore, out of fashion.
The smiling, singing of key (haha), haunting my dreams, that’s perfect.
The knife, I don’t get it. Maybe it’s just to rime with life. The way you hold your knife? For what? I hope only to cook. I used to love when you cooked for me. I used to love to cook with you. And most of all, I used to love to cook for you. I would wish you would have to work late, at home, just so that I could cook for you and bring you the food. I wish you would sometimes be working late, so that I could bring you tea and cookies, and went to bed waiting for you to hug me so that I could fall asleep. Of course I don’t wish you to be busy so that you have to be working late. It’s just that you were busy, but I never got to bring you tea and cookies and going to bed waiting for you. You would either don’t do the work, or we wouldn’t sleep together.
We never danced either. You know I can’t dance in public? I love music, and I love to dance, when I’m alone in my room, alone in the house. I never go out much to dance. I’m so shy, I don’t move. I remember being able to dance three times in public. All the other times (not many), I just stood. I wonder how you it be to dance with you. I wonder if you know how to dance. I wonder how we would dance together. I wouldn’t be shy dancing with you, I think. I wouldn’t be thinking of anything else beside how to manage not to crash your feet. I would love to dance with you. To have danced. I would love to have that memory.
The way you changed my life needs no comments. You did really changed a lot in me, in my life. I thought I would never love again. I thought if I tried, I could be with someone else, with a guy. In my former relationship I never felt bad or concerned for loving a woman, for having a relationship with a woman. But with you I felt different. Maybe because we are almost the same age, what isn’t the case with my first girlfriend. Maybe because we would naturally hold my hand or hug me when walking in the street. Maybe because you would introduce me as your girlfriend. Simple things I never had, simple things I was never allowed to do. I’m not saying I love you more. I’m not saying I love you less. I can’t compare. Things are different. I was different. The world around was different.
It is true I wanted things to work out after a long time she broke up with me. It is true I thought I was done with love. It is possible true that I was a kid and a full. I was completely restored when I met you. I was completely ready to love you.
Maybe it was because I found you knowing I wouldn’t have you for long.
Maybe it was because I wanted to overcome all the distance in the world.
Maybe it was because I believed I could change your mind if only I could make you see that my love was the purest and sincerest of all.
Maybe it was because I hoped you would dare to try with me.
Maybe it was because I lost so before the time I should have.
Whatever the reasons, ‘the way your smile just beams, the way you sing off key, the way you haunt my dreams’ no one can’t away from me.
The way you kissed me, and hold me in your arms, I may never be blessed again to feel.
And that I will me missing.
Today.
Tomorrow.
Ever.
And for ever.
Time.
All in time.
All in it’s time.
All the time.
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