… wishing I
could have wished you a happy birthday, my dear. Thing is that during the past
months I’ve been making some tough decisions and they are getting harder
everyday. Sometimes even simple problems, like what I’m gonna have for dinner,
can be too difficult. I’ve put myself into a confused situation, totally out of
my comfort zone, and you know what that means, right? I know you know and I
know you know me. It means that for every decision I make, I have to endure the
consequences and I hate consequences. Cannot be different though. Gotta be
strong.
In rainy
days I sometimes remember old smells of you and me in our bedroom, laying down
talking about everything, chilling out or playing silly games. I remember the
hard days I had back there and few, maybe none were as tough as these recent
ones have been to me. But in that time, they were hard enough to make me want
to cry and hide. I have always been weak. I wouldn’t say, ever, that you were
my strength, but you were a so important part of it. Remember what I used to
tell you? Everything could be endured when I remembered that by the end of the
day, getting home, I would be able to sit down with you and eat, talk or just
sleep.
If life is
supposed to be a messy thing, and it is, you were my constant. My fixed point.
Today is
raining, I was buying stuff in a local market – things are getting more
expensive here, my dear, I’m struggling with money and how am I supposed to
tell that to my parents? I’m ashamed. I saw a woman, an older woman, and she
reminded me so much of you when you were younger. The tone of the skin, the
hair wrapped behind the head, the smile looking at her baby. I have memories of
an old photograph of you holding a volleyball trophy, dressed in your team’s
uniform and so physically similar to this woman I saw today. I suddenly
realised how heavy it was to go back to the new house I’m trying to call home.
You weren’t there, nobody was there. Only my attic and my computer, some stuff
I kept after moving, a Doctor Who poster on the wall by the side of the drawing
I made for you – we’re a good team.
Winter is
starting to fall upon us here in the UK. Forest Hall is an orange place: houses
are made of old orange-ish bricks. By the window of the attic, I have an
astonishing view. My window faces the sky in a strange diagonal position. At
night, I lay down to sleep and see either the black sky or rainy clouds. If
wait enough, I can see the moon and it is so damn shiny that it is almost annoying.
I wish I
could share all this with you, I still miss it. Maybe I’ll miss forever.
Sometimes I tell things to people and it feels kinda pointless if it is not to
you, so I don’t think I’ll find anyone to replace you anytime soon – not that I
have to anyway.
But
overall, I’m fine and I’m getting better everyday in everything. I feel
stronger and more confident than ever. Missing you is a daily thing and usually
it comes in the form of the nicest memories or a random smell. But sometimes,
my dear, missing you hurts so much.
Too much.
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