sunday

slightly hangover. nervous. amazed by the beautiful weather. blue cloudless sky. bookshops. smell of oranges and tangerines. crowded streets and metro. triple cappuccino. a building fell down in hung hom. two people went missing. maybe hong kong is right when obsessing about old buildings and their renovations. staying up past midnight watching tv shows drinking white wine and talking into the air. many things gone from the list, another half a dozen added. tomorrow is another day, a week of sleepless nights lies ahead. but I am fine with it. it’s what I have chosen. tonight the apartment is completely silent.

je suis desole

dear ____,

what can I write? but honestly. things do not change rapidly around here. even though some times it feels like today I am living a life of somebody completely else than yesterday. I am becoming increasingly busier with each day. just as I have always wanted to be. somewhere in between the lines, I’ve started another chapter of my life. in the last few months I’ve become even more independent. not because I don’t need anyone, but because I’ve allowed myself to be needed. and to be there. for me it’s easy to wake up every morning and from the first sun rays of the day, do everything by myself. I am trying to let more people in my life. open the front door, let them in. knowing who your real friends are, that’s where the freedom comes from. but I am too stubborn. you know that. you have always battled with me.

events of this year so far have shown me that I have to start making small spaces, small sacrifices for other people. not just to help them, but to fulfill my own purpose. something I’ve been talking about for so long and never doing anything. often, people ask me, what I think the meaning of life is. and I always say there isn’t any. just to set them back for a little while. but I wonder whether I truly believe that, or do I always just say it because I want to keep my front door shut. some people don’t know it yet, but I am actually a hypocrite. I am a hypocrite just by admitting that I am one.

this weekend has been an amazing one. I’ve allowed myself to drink white wine after five years and I am thinking this should mark a new beginning of our relationship. even though I can hardly imagine it. I think you would understand this better than anyone.

signed oscar wilde.

we will get there, you’ll see

a few weeks ago he said, let’s hang out. and I thought he was crazy because we never talked to each other before. he kept calling and I kept making up excuses. until tonight. he seemed a bit desperate and I had nothing else to do. three hours we talked about everything and nothing. I have never met a boy who would pour out his soul the way he did. but maybe it’s because we don’t know each other, not well enough. we had a few drinks, he walked me home and I remembered a line, which perfectly fit into last night: I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. and it really was.

I need more nights like this. honest and simple.

tuesday

today was cold. more cold than I would have liked. I’ve moved again the heater it’s back in my room. there was a lot of laughter in the afternoon. a lot of it. honey orange latte seems to be the most frequent indulgence. after school we walk together to the nearest starbucks, measure the speeds of escalators and elevators and laugh because we are going crazy. completely. we laugh so much our bodies hurt. what keeps me sane are friends I have around me. even those that are far away, maybe especially them, but I cannot know for sure because I miss them too much. I am trying to remember what it was like to be truly lonely. because I still know how to be alone.

I walked up to SoHo again, instead of cup of coffee I bought myself a blueberry smoothie. it wasn’t too sweet, just the way I like it. I spent two hours in three different bookstores, but left home with no books. maybe tomorrow. I was planning on watching a film, but I decided not to drink my nightly coffee and so now I am all ready to sleep, even though it’s only a little bit past eleven. I am focusing on my french and chinese lessons. it’s become so important to me. I loved that silence, while I tumbled along the walls of the french library. I spent minutes and minutes looking at the titles, touching them with my fingertips, imagining I understood them. a huge à bout de souffle poster hung on the wall. I wished I was french for the hundredth time. there are certain moments in my days, which make me happier than anything else in the world. but it doesn’t take much.

I missed those four calls, but they made my day.

I hope you’re not lonely without me

sunday.
silence. something. sexed up.
alliterations everywhere.
too much of work. catching up on my
writing
reading
chinese characters
french grammar. I am drinking
english breakfast
honey orange latte.
a green peas, broccoli and cauliflower soup for dinner.
hi hello, how low? I am still not over it.
staying up late on skype talking to a certain someone.
are you reading this? please, don’t.
new friends. strangers. I loved it all.
elliott smith on repeat.