6.05 am; I haven’t been awake this early in entire, long months. in fact, I’d barely slept last night. three and a half hours maybe, and I kept waking up the entire time. I dreamt about first love. the most illogical dream I’ve had in a while. mozambique, a skiing trip. but I am watching him from a bird’s point of view, snowboarding down the hills and slopes like a pro. and then he disappears; the ice beneath him breaks and he falls into a trap à la 127 hours. but I am the bird and I can see everything; I call for help. other birds or other humans. I don’t know. the next part had something to do with us being back at his house; southern bohemia, small town tavern. I think we might have actually been there at some point. there was no meaning to this part of the dream. his mother arrived to announce that she’s sold their house and needs a shot of becherovka. our own house by the seaside appeared a couple of times as well, but with no apparent purpose. then I woke up with a start; with a heavy heart.
the boy messaged me around 4.30. he’d just woken up, because his little baby sister started crying. so he got up to feed her. I pictured this so vividly in my head, smiling to myself. I hadn’t been to his house for so long, I cannot recall the details anymore. but I felt the light outside the window changing; he’s much closer to the sea in the north and I know the day starts a split of a second earlier there. he sent a long message in french; heartfelt words of affections and longings. but I felt so detached from his words, I couldn’t come up with a reply. je suis désolée, mon amour.
I thought of the warmth and coziness one experiences when they wake up next to their significant other, and despite not being single, it’s something I barely experience. it’s peacefully beautiful; waking up next to the person, being the little or the big spoon. the soft breathing, those few minutes when the entire world is sleeping. you sink deeper into pillows; into each other. everything is motionless, but alive and the beginning of the day is still a couple of hours away. the only people awake in the middle of the night are the loved and the lonely. I am not sure what the difference is. I miss it. loneliness of the worst kind is taking refuge inside me.
a passing ambulance down on the street interrupts my train of thought for a moment and I remember my high school mornings. there was a period when I used to get up at 6.20 precisely and then I’d write for forty-five minutes. I have entire archives to prove it. I’d be purposely late for the first class, because finishing a sentence felt much more important. when I think about it, for someone who loves to learn and read more than anything else, I cannot completely explain why I had avoided high school so much. I just hated everything about it. a rebel without a cause of sorts. I haven’t missed out on anything.
back to present. I am no longer the only person awake. the apartment is no longer bathed in darkness of dawn and there are sounds. opened balcony door lets the noise of hong kong inside, a reggae radio is turned on. I like to start my mornings with some reggae. it became so close to me; I’d never thought it would be possible. I’d never thought it would be possible. I have no idea what I consider possible or impossible anymore. there were a lot of items on both lists and all of them came true. you worry too much what other people think. I laughed. no one has ever said anything like to me before. if anything, it’s always the opposite.
and then, as if to prove him right, I stayed up all night, worrying that perhaps, I do.