Völlig aus dem Konzept gerissen, den Tauben im Wind nachschauen, traurig sein, überrascht sein, aber vor allem traurig sein.
Vor allem allein. Sich allein fühlen. Jahrelang ein unbekanntes Gefühl, plötzlich so präsent. Mir selber nah, das tut gut, ist schwer.
Im Schwebezustand. Nirgends zuhause. Obdachlos. Im Regen stehen gelassen. Mitten in der Nacht. Bewegungslos. Mit hängendem Kopf.
Wohin gehst Du dann? Ja, dann geht man einfach. Keine Ahnung wo hin. Planlos. Erschüttert. Aber man geht. Weil man dort nicht stehen kann. Ewig.
Träume. Man träumt. Am Tag. Harmlos. Weil es keinen Unterschied macht.
Verständnis wird komplett zum Fremdwort. An die warmen Hände kann man sich plötzlich nicht mehr richtig erinnern. An die Berührungen auf der Haut. An den Herzschlag. So ist das eben.
Warme Sonnenstrahlen auf der Haut spüren. Den Sand zwischen den Zehen fühlen. Am Strand den Wellen zuschauen. Den Wellen nachschauen. Der Sonne. Den eigenen Takt wieder finden. Und traurig sein.
Und dann habe ich verstanden, was Liebe heisst. Sie ist mit mir verwachsen, sie ist meine Wurzel, mein Halt, mein Leben. Ohne sie, so fehlt ein Teil von mir. Ohne sie bin ich kalt, ohne Halt, ohne Leben.
Sometimes I wonder. I wonder what he had been doing in those six months.
But then I shudder. I want to know, but I know that I don’t want to know.
I can imagine – I shouldn’t imagine.
Weird.
I can think back to that time, to those six months,
and I mean six months is a pretty long time,
and I don’t remember anything.
What have I been doing? what have I been up to?
what have I been thinking?
All I know is that I worked. I worked and I cried.
And I listened to those songs, to those sad songs.
I would make a habit of crying on my way to work,
when the sun was rising and I would pass by a pond
with little ducks.
Sometimes I would even sit for a while and watch them.
They grew with the weeks.
And I would walk back at sunrise, crying again,
cause the sad songs made me do so.
I can still listen to them today – and they still make my heart break again.
It’s as if that time had no purpose, no meaning.
As if it didn’t exist.
Except for when I went away, that time had a purpose.
I had to leave completely – I had to put as much distance between him and me as I could.
But still –
I still find it weird.
I’ve always been doing things, I’ve always been planning and working towards something.
For six months I did do all of that, but I did it all wrong.
Cause when I think back, I didn’t do anything productive, anything inspiring.
Not to me.
Not to others.
I was just an empty shell.
So empty, that when I look back at myself at that time
I don’t remember a person
I don’t remember what I did
I almost don’t remember a thing.
Because nothing mattered
but the sadness in my heart.
Picture: Printscreen Vlog The Michalaks (check them out!)
I never knew that I could feel constantly sad for so long…
it has already been 3 months – a quarter of a year. Still – no day has gone by without a thought about my lost love, my lost chances.
I’m sorry I let you wait for so long for a new blog post. But I honestly couldn’t bring myself to write one – until now.
I went to see him again. It was a mistake. There was the old connection between us, the brushed arms when we walked past each other, the closeness I yearned for, the stupid jokes about the same old things, his touch.
I collapsed after I left. A few days later I demanded to get answers.
Answers to questions I couldn’t even ask without wondering if I could handle to hear what he would say to them.
He told me – I should let him go.
That I should live my life.
That the timing wasn’t right.
That he would come back once he thinks, he can be the person I deserve.
That he knows it could be too late then.
He told me, I was important to him.
That he had the most wonderful time ever with me.
You know, I don’t know if I’ve said this before, but I am not the kind of person who believes much in timing.
I am convinced that ultimately you have to fight and work for what you want to keep in your life.
It’s about what you do. You cannot always look for excuses and you cannot make life itself to one of them.
Nevertheless – I felt defeated.
I tried to accept it, I tried and am still trying because I love him and because I have no other choice.
I cannot force him to love me.
I cannot make him want me.
It all becomes less painful after a while – you become numb, resigned.
I deleted the pictures, stopped myself from thinking about the time we shared, his eyes, his touch or the future I always hoped we would have together.
It’s all gone and it’s all out of my hands.
Nothing I could ever imagine myself doing, is ever going to change anything, or make it work again.
It needs two to love.
Sometimes I even wonder, if what we had was ever true. Now that it is all deleted it becomes so surreal.
Has it ever been there? Has it ever existed? Have weexisted?
I am concentrating on myself now. That’s my biggest advice. Focus on yourself, change things, live. Even though you will go through tough days… don’t call him, don’t text him. Delete the number.
I am waiting for the time, when he’s ready to talk to me again – when he misses me so much, that he reaches out to me and not the other way around. He could be missing me then as a friend, or as a human being or as the one who once loved him. Maybe until then, I am different. Maybe then i can stand in front of him without tears in my eyes – strong.
If he’s moving on, I have to do the same thing. I cannot be left behind.
He says he knows it could be too late. This is what I don’t understand. I don’t understand why he promises me to come back one day, although he has never kept a promise he’s ever made. And why would you let someone go, if you knew it could be too late? I would never push anyone out of my life, if I would intend to let this person back in sometime, knowing it could never happen… because it could be too late. No one would do that, that’s too much of a risk. You keep the ones you love as close to you as you can and never let them go. Right?
I would have never let him go. But he asks for it. He turns around and walks away from me. Leaving me all alone. If I ever want to feel happy again, I have to do what I hate most, what I’ve always been to scared to even think about.
And to be fair, slowly frustration and some sort of anger starts to build inside of me.
It helps me to leave him alone
but I don’t like it, because it isn’t me.
I’m kind.
But I hate not being able to do anything about it. That fighting doesn’t help. That I have to accept the defeat.
I would’ve fought for him forever, if I only saw a glimpse of a chance.
Now I dunno what to tell you anymore. I am literally planning my life. Soon I start Uni, I wanna move out, work more… A fresh start.
Before I end this post I’d like to share with you something which has made me think.
I heard following poem recently. It’s called If by Ruyard Kipling – read out by Hanna Maggs and her husband on their Vlog-channel The Michalaks:
I know this has nothing to do with romantic relationships whatsoever.
Some sentences still stayed with me and I really cannot let them go:
“If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, … If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; … Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
… And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;”
I wondered, if I could ever forgive him what he did to me. If I could ever trust him again.
If I could even let him come back into my life.
I don’t know the answers yet. For the moment I let him figure out, when the time for us is right
– whatever us we are.
I give him the time he needs.
It would be incredibly sad, if this was it.
If this was the end. No contact. Out of each others lives.
Gone.
But on the other hand I am not too sure a broken heart can ever heal, or forget.
