77. sometimes i just need to know that you won’t die

the week is nearly over. again.
and it feels like rain on skin in the heat of summer, raising goosebumps in spite of its warmth.

i never want anything to end.
not even nightmares.
i drag them out carefully, tossing and turning, roasting, like a pig, in my own cold sweat.
i had one every night this week. sometimes two. and i remember. i don’t keep tabs on my subconsiousness because it scares me. the brutality of the mind always scares me. and i dream of death. of death and failure.
y flores. flores para los muertos.

right now, my world is a house made of paper: cards with pretty scribbles on them, where blanche‘s words i lived in a house where dying old women remembered their dead men have more than substance; they have depth to go on and on, revolving in my head.

i’ve seen them from every angle. i swear.

what is it with death?
i’ve always said i have to die before the one i love. i couldn’t stand life otherwise. and i’ve made you promise you won’t die before me. i’ve made you promise me the unthinkable, the unpredictable, the unpromisable.

i did it just because sometimes i just need to know that you won’t die.

15. you live and learn, right?

some days are just rubbish.
no way of getting round it. no way of changing that fact.
today was one of those days.

when you wake up in the morning, what do you think? do you think of the days having gone past or do you look to the future? do you make a wish? just a little one, maybe. like, i wish my train runs on time today or i wish this cold doesn’t get any worse.
i did all of that this morning and still, still i couldn’t prevent the day being a failure. like a snowflake melting halfway down on its journey from the sky ot the ground.
no amount of good-luck actions would have changed that, i think.
it’s all written in the stars, no? 

it was W this time. he’s so important that i’ve never even mentioned him before now, but hey, you live and learn, right?
he went and told the superiors that i was bullying him. last time i checked, caring about what one has to say, always asking one if he’s alright (genuinely concerned, because he did seem depressed lately), making jokey, playful remarks is NOT bullying.

but hey, you live and learn, right?

that hurt me.
i don’t know what to say. he was my friend and he turned against me, making accusations our mutual friends were shocked to hear. that i, yself, was shocked to hear. 
but why would he make up something like that?
oh, this is a good one. listen to this, right – the superior was telling him off, so he figured… shift the blame on someone else. tell them he was having a tough time of it all and i was making it worse.
i wish he’d tell me how being friendly is making it worse.

but his excuse for saying that to the superior is the best. it’s not really much of an excuse at all: he didn’t think she’d tell me.
i guess he just didn’t think.

but he was right:
she didn’t tell me. she screamed right at me how unacceptable bullying was, how i should be ashamed, how i’m a disappointment.
the list goes on. 

and is that something a friend would do? i don’t think so, somehow.

i cried today. more than once. i couldn’t believe it. 
call me naive, but i thought that W was my friend. i liked him a lot. he was my train buddy.

how stupid of me.

10. very nearly our year. but not quite.

it’s odd to think i’ll be leaving this year behind so soon. it was a year of growth, of pain and happiness and love. i almost want to do a flashback to all the key moments of the last year, to relive them again, to go back and breathe the fresh air of the park in the summer, when me and Y laid there looking at the clouds.

i want to go back to the valentines day that was a bit of failure, but still beautiful in its simplicity. to relive the moment when one man asked me and Y “are you two together” and how i flashed him my most striking smile and, laughing ever so slightly, said “kind of”. it was so complicated and simple. but that was then.

i want to go back to the phonecalls me and Y would have. maybe that record 3 hour 22 minute conversation when we first said that we loved each other. we didn’t mean it, not then, but it was a magnificent moment still. i don’t know if that was this year or last, but hey, it’s there somewhere. it’s in the memories attributed to Y and this was his and my year. very nearly our year. but not quite.

you know, boy, me and Y had spent so much time hiding. there was one time in the park when we saw someone we knew and we immediately split up, trying to act casual, not managing, but still getting away unseen by him.
or that time when everyone kept asking us if we were together and i, twiddling the ring he gave me, laughingly told them that no, we were not going out. and we weren’t.

a little way into our friendship, that was closer than platonic friendship could ever be, i told Y not to ever ask me out, not to ever put me into position of having to refuse him.
i wouldn’t change that if i could. it wasn’t that i wasn’t ready to commit, i just wasn’t ready to commit to him.

and now this year is nearly over, i recount those memories and love them.
love them because they bring me happiness in knowing that there was a time i loved, and in knowing that, i know i’ll love again.

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cras amet qui numquam amavit quique amavit cras amet
‘Let those love now, who’ve never loved; let those who’ve loved, love yet again.’