[bln, last midnight]
i just wrote you this huge e-mail. but i figure, it's pathetic. it's like knocking at your door at night for shelter, when you're not there anymore to let me in...
what i wanna say, though, so i'm bloggin' the whole thing, and "that’s all, folks":
because today that cozy summer-vacation-fling-thing-bubble popped. just like that:
i woke up in an unpleasantly cold hotel room, under a sky, greyer than grey, and suddenly, that glow was gone, all that shiny lightness... just gone.
and i'm back. home. bitter-sweet. home.
fantasia is falling.
welcome to the real world, baby!
which is not to say i’m unhappy. not at all!
it’s just... when after so long (15 months of fasting) something so rare (sparking with someone is hell of a rare cause) happens to me and makes me get somehow over the shitty things, and reminds me of --- all the magic! that i want to be a child again, ‘cause it was so easy to believe then, that it can be real, one day...
well, then i get somewhat melancholic.
you’re fasting, more or less happily, then there is this devilish delicious piece of cake, simply too good to miss out on, you know you can’t quite finish it, before you get kicked out on the street again – well, there’s no fasting possible anymore. there’s starvation!
lesson learned: as good as it gets - you can't feed memories to the starving.
true, a few pages in my book of relationshits have been turned, thank goodness! i'm glad, happy, some much lighter now!
but – as we’ve already pointed out over the kitchen-table: there always is a but – there's that page turned now... and it's all white.
the greatest fear of a poet: the blank stare of the blank page.
eye to eye now.
and you have no idea... how to fill that page.
without messing it up, anyways.
also, girl that i am, i tried, but i just couldn't quite find the color of your eyes, nor the color of your hair, i could barely remember your voice...
still remains your face in the twilight and the feeling of your hair running through my fingers.
running like sand, though, sand that runs through a clock.
fantasia is falling. and all i can do is watching it fall.
it's what i always hated the most.
this is the part in that movie "eternal sunshine of the spotless mind" where he is running, hiding, just trying to save just one VIVID memory...
but no matter how hard you try treasuring all the good stuff, in the end there's always just a few images left, that turn into black & white photographs with no real SENSE to it.
that's what's killing me, when we were talking that other debate over the kitchen-table about "treasuring moments, enjoying things for as long as they last, making it worth-while, lalala".
there was a reason to it, why it would upset me so madly!
that later on you held me and admired my balls to this time come knocking at your door when i needed you, and you were there, and agreed to following:
yes, i do believe, that you can be content with just you and your life, without another person.
i just wouldn't know how that's supposed to work without that one and only true magic left in the world!
and i've seen it happening!
no, wait. i haven't. i thought i had. but then: i'd be happily ever after now.
so, no, haven't seen it happening yet, but i have a vague guess on how happy one can be, that is: two people being as one.
and that, truly i feel, is a happiness, no one could ever accomplish by just being alone.
maybe what i really mean is somewhat beyond “happiness”. it's something bigger. maybe we really have to find another word for that kind of happiness.
so i have to say, i am happy, content, very much so!
still, i sometimes feel like that huge colorful puzzle, really something, but the center piece, just that one piece is missing.
yeah, i’m sorry, but it makes you feel sad, not being able to treasure memories the way you would like to keep them, when only every once a year, if you are lucky, something beautiful happens that opens the door to --- glückseligkeit. a moment of.
of course is only momentarily, that's the thing about happiness.
that's why it's so highly valued.
and if i was a guy... ‘cause, damn, it must be nice to be a guy sometimes! (and i still hear you laughing: “yes, it is!”) ...if i was a guy:
i would go shoot some beer, hit on some girls, all pretty, 'cause there are so many gorgeous women out there, and eventually one said yes, we'd have some fun and i could just relax, not think too much, move on, laughing my way through it, until the next pretty thing happens to me, and eventually with one i'd stick. yeah. that'd be something!
...but as a girl... (i'd like to quote my dearest bea now: "seuftz...seuheuftz...miauuuu...seuftz.") as a girl:
i need that spark!
and that doesn't happen too often, sparking.
(who invented that spark-thing, anyways?)
so, i’m sad.
and i cried. (you said, i should cry more often. but honestly, i don’t like it too much. it’s different when you held me, saying, “you don’t have to play all strong in front of me, and if you need my shoulder to either kiss or cry on – it’s all yours!” - but sitting home alone crying just makes you feel... really alone.)
although, of course, i knew all that up-front.
that was the deal: i get to be with the beauty for as long as the ball lasts, and then go home with the beast.
that is: nothing real to hold on to.
yep. so, i knew.
yet, "i know that i was warned - still it was not what i'd hoped," sings ani d.
and i agree.
also, of course, i know there is nothing you could say or do to make it better.
so, never mind.
i just remembered how it felt. to be held.
and it's a little harsh, now, to have to forget it as quickly as possible.
'cause... that's fantasia.
not the real world.
much too late for... us.
so, i stop whining now. i know, this will be better by tomorrow, i just need some sleep, i guess.
and good luck.