Dating. A strange place to cram an easy thing like love into. It wrapped and sealed us in so that we could not see anymore through the plastic. We could only see each other, each other’s shadows. The light entering from the top helped us cast each other’s shadows. But we must never have looked up because all we saw was shadows. Dreadful spaces of black, smeared against our walls. Eventually, you became my ghost. I was ashamed of you. I missed you.

I came back to you yesterday. Your eyes lit up like fireworks when you saw me. I counted the steps it took you to find me through the crowd in your apartment and waited for you to come to me after every pause in conversation. I searched for you although you were not far. From the corner of my eye, I kept an eye on you. Your ears, your back, your eyes. Your eyes, still and insistent as you talk, peering behind your glasses. I missed you. The dress I wore was solely for you. “Like 20 presents in one,” I joked with Jane about the pink bows peppering the fabric.

You had 20 choices. In my view, you had 20 and more. All you had to do was look for them. Find them. Make us work. You weren’t ready. I was idealistic. I wanted it all, not a compromise or our happiness pressed between walls. I wanted you, whole and complete. You didn’t see it. You missed it along with the 20 other little crumbs along the path that would have led you to the answer. And as the sun grew heavy and the shadows stretched out longer on the road, you chose your answer. There, in the weariness of sunsets, you came up with the best that you could do.

Your way led us to a safe, familiar place. A bed. A sheet. A few guests lingering in the living room, wondering whether you’d come out again or whether they should go. She’s back, their whispers rose and reached your ears as I entered again, alone this time, without my friends. I left them in that crowded bar. I needed to find you. Your bows were all around me, 20 drawings stuffed down my throat, all identical, all around my body, waiting for your hands. You took me in your hands then, you lay me down in bed and tucked me in. I was drunk on memory, and you took care of me. I waited for you to return. There in the darkness, I whispered to you. Reviens. Come back, come back, come back. You heard me.

This morning, I wasn’t surprised to be naked. I always felt my best when I was naked near you. I still do. Guilt replaced by giddiness, I laughed and pinched your nipple. You let out a scream then, and though I wanted to laugh and hug you, I said I was sorry. Compassion. I missed you. I wanted you to know. I wanted to practice what I didn’t then, wanted to see how it is to nurture a person rather than his shadows. Wild and sincere, my reactions shed light on your actions. I finally spoke my mind.

We went on like that until 2. You wanted to get up earlier, but I reached out to you again. I put aside my pride for you, and you listened. We are too close. We shouldn’t do this, you said. We should stop. Do you want me to move then? You didn’t speak. But your eyes, round and insistent as the white space enclosed in the ink of an “o”, said it all. It was like us, really, that manner in your eyes then … you and me, enclosed in a space of wonder, a pause out of life for a few seconds or hours. It was the best you’ve done all along, almost canceling out the fact that it’s over.

well, on day 6, you lose track. i guess that means that on day 4 or 5, you’ve stopped counting.

that was fast.

my last photo at his place, 5 a.m., saturday morning

“would you ever do that, date someone forever but not marry them?” asks your friend over coffee. her boyfriend’s looking at you too, curious about your answer. you blink.

it’s not depressing or sad, day 2. it’s just a mild recognition of what’s at hand, a mellow passage through your day, a slight hint of fear in the back of your mind of the rest of the time without him.

the “saddest” thought: this in your life is over. it will never come again in this lifetime. you crossed paths for a short time, and now it’s over. there will be other people sure, in both your life and his, but you two will never be together again. you’ll never have those moments of quiet understanding, a simple joy at being near each other. those moments when you didn’t look past the day in either direction, and just waited, in each other’s embrace, talking, laughing, oblivious to time and things and most of all the invisible calendar, edging you closer to the next square set out for you.

ay. my heart still doesn’t ache. it’s containing itself while the mind does all the work now. i think they’re still a good pair, these two, still working to save each other.

it’s really peaceful in here now. i’ve opened up the window, and the sound of  leaves rustling at the touch of the wind reaches my ears. i’ve loved living here, especially for this reason — that beautiful sound, that makes me feel like i live in the countryside. that i get the best of both worlds: a hectic city full of opportunity and a soothing vacation destination right by the river. i really love it here, and when your heart stops clamoring for the past, you really again notice the present.

i have lots to do today, and it’s all good.

for the next 60 days, no call, no chat, no facebook. i’ve deleted all the possible passages that lead me back to him. it’s like standing in the middle of a clearing, looking back at the hazy route through the trees that got you here and not remembering how to go back.

So you don’t look back; you keep moving on.

it’s probably one of the hardest things i’ve ever had to do, make myself walk out of there against my will, crying quietly at 5 a.m. so as not to wake him up and saying goodbye to the couch, the chairs, the floor tiles, the kitchen — everything i’ve quietly befriended in the time that i shared in his existence. knowing i’ll never see any of it again, not in this way anyway. knowing it’s best for me.

this is so fn hard right now. i’m reeling like an addict whose supplier has just quit the business. and it’s only 4 p.m. — way too far from sleep for comfort.

a piiile ou face touuuus mes sentiments!
a pile ou face indifferemment!

so much wasted time. as if it’d last forever.