Archive for August, 2008

Scarlet Letters

First off, I would like to say that you’re not my type. Don’t get me wrong, you are an exceptionally pretty girl, but there’s something about you… confidence, I think. Makes me feel less of a man. That’s probably it.
It’s a good thing, though. Nowadays I get very jealous, very easily and it would have eaten me to watch you dance with that other guy. You’re a remarkable dancer, especially for someone your size. It was a true delight watching you behind the bar while the salsa lessons where going on.

Let’s get to the point. I want to thank you. You now know that I just got out of a long-term relationship, but you don’t see how much it tore me apart. Even as I said that I’ll grow old missing a part of myself, you switched the subject back to french fries. But yeah, they were quite good.
You can’t grasp what you did for me. Heck, all you did was talk. You’re good at that, and aside from education I was amazed about the things we have in common. "I play badminton." So do I! "I go wall climbing." Lately, so have I! Well, two times in the last four months. "I play squash now and then." I’m going to shut up, I think you just stopped believing me.
Conversation. I thought I had lost the skill. But somehow, we rarely ran out of things to talk about, which was mainly you. I listened with great interest, even when you and that biochemist were blabbing about cancer-inducing chemicals and the destruction of DNA. Yes, I remember that, and yes, I felt jealous. Because all I could talk about was black steel and he seemed to know about even that, the smug nerd. But you hate jealousy, so let’s not go there.

You see, what surprised me most of all, is that I kept your interest. If it was sexual attraction, you’re damn good at hiding it. But then, so am I. Force of fucking habit which I doubt you have. You are hard to entertain, you dislike easily and you don’t hide it. Yet I caught your fancy, from the start. Probably because I asked what brand of camera you had and I mentioned I did audio-visual arts in school. My past is pretty much all I have to offer, though you needed very little of it to keep interested, and talking. Talking. Two days with a hug and a number to top it off. You didn’t pity me, or tried to cheer me up. You did, though. More than you can know. And I’ll be damned if you didn’t have a good time, too. Fuck me if you didn’t seem genuinely happy to see me when I showed up at the sports hall, to your surprise. Can you believe I tried to clean up my place a little in case you would come over? I can’t. Still looks like a dump, but it’s my dump, and you’re new so I can tell you I just moved in.

I have done up a list
of pros and cons
for suicide

and both sides
are equally full

of bullshit.

-A Softer World

Thank you. I never gained a friend this spontaneously. I owe you more than I can ever repay you. But I hate climbing, and you love to do it in good company. So there we have a start. And you said I have talent, maybe I’ll learn to love it. In a sense, I already do. Something to add to the ‘con’ list.


How are you supposed to deal with something when you really don’t want to? Is that some other aspect of grief that has to be tackled individually? Every time I think I got past the goodbye, I come home disappointed that she isn’t there. She still has my key, after all. And I have hers, but pigs will fly before I go over there for anything but picking up the shit of mine that’s still there.

I got a message from her the other day. Asking me if I’m alright and that she is sorry that she didn’t see my capoeira gig (which got fucking cancelled anyway). When I replied that I’m a wreck and I don’t know what to do with myself anymore, she basically said she was sorry, that she knew it was her fault.
That’s nice. But it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. It didn’t include any "I miss you," "I want you back," "Let’s talk things over." I would have refused anyway, though. I think. I hope. Not fucking likely.

Some things remind me of her mroe than others, and for some reason this small festival that I am volunteering at, is tearing me apart. Get distracted to keep her out of my mind, and there she is. She didn’t show up, just like last year. She was out of the country then, which left me quite disappointed because I got to play a regular hero back then and she wasn’t around to see it. Eh, maybe next year, right? Fuck you.
So maybe that’s it, the fact that she doesn’t get to see me at my best. Doesn’t matter much this year anyhow. While I was able to save the day with my know-how and tools last year, shit is better prepared now. They got a whole team doing light and sound instead of just one guy, and they’re anticipating problems now. They cut down on the bar so it’s much smaller now, and I can’t make myself useful there, either. Nothing for me to do but to hang around and watch couples dance.

Get me out of this place. I’m running out of places to run to. I had to break down Pukkelpop festival last week, and we arrived while Sigur Ros was playing. Just like they did at Werchter, while she and I were fighting because I had had too little sleep to be in any kind of a good mood and well, she was fucking some other guy, telling me I had nothing to worry about. I’m sure there was some emotional factor for her involved somewhere that made her cry spontaneously when we were watching, but right now, I just don’t give a shit anymore. That’s how it is: She and him. Not me, I was alone, writhing in my own skin, swearing at colleagues, desperately trying to figure out what to do. So fuck her. Two hours of doing nothing I had to endure at Pukkelpop, while hearing them play and knowing that she was in the crowd on the other side of the fence, doing god-knows-what with god-knows-who to comfort her, and colleagues all around me who were undoubtebly going to ask questions if I started kicking things, which really was all I felt like at that moment. And I hate questions. They only shove me further into self pity, guided by good intentions and genuine care.

It took longer than it did the first time, but it’s getting to me. Naively hoping that today’s tears will be the last. It’s slowly turning into a long-term thing, a constant greying of the town around me, which I don’t know how to escape from. Distraction is a temporary solution. Speaking of which, I just might start drinking, they do still tell me that I "have to learn". What else can I do? Last time I was saved by someone else, I cannot even begin to describe what I owe her. And all she did was pick me up.
Stupid thing is, I can’t remember how she did that.