avant qu’elle parte, neuf


at the end of november, I wanted to bring this series to an end. because the beginning of this started off entirely differently and because none of it matters anymore. but I kind of like writing these. there is a hidden story in between the lines and it’s mine only. it has been a whole year already. and a few nights ago was the first time I saw a glimpse of his name after all this time. well and alive, despite my expectations. I was so wrong back then. to think now, that sometimes I wouldn’t see him for a few days and not care has become the impossible. the way I made the transition from the old into the new, like it wasn’t a big deal is scary. horrifying. I still don’t understand how I managed that. but perhaps I didn’t.

I am dreaming of an escape. not because I feel the need to run away from anything. I just need a break. a pause button. to deal with everything I haven’t dealt with. to sleep for endless hours, to write whenever I want, to breathe fresh air. exist in the simplest possible way with as little as possible. only with him by my side. and my stories. there are so many and I want to learn how say them. how to speak to him without being supported by anything. I want to lose the feeling of having my tongue twisted when I am supposed to say something. anything. like last night. I wish I knew how to express myself in an honest, true way. without symbolics and metaphors and comparisons to other things. just explain everything the way it is. because he is not going to be patient forever and I am only wearing myself out.

I always thought it was just easier for me to be honest in writing, but even then I find myself hiding behind a veil of reconstructed reality. I cannot even begin to describe how tired I am. of living, of being. of keeping keeping on. there needs to be a break somewhere. something needs to change.