There Was A Day

Well, maybe there were more days like this one, but I don't have them recorded. What kind of day was it?

Hm, well... Right now I was searching through my old notebooks to find some english grammar lessons for a class that I am teaching and I found a notebook I forgot even existed. The notebook where I wrote down everything Robert and I wrote to each other. And well... Words slip away from me in this moment... Emotional is the only expression I can think of...

I am reading this now and... There was a day when he missed me. Well, actually, a day when he missed me and told me about that. So why do I believe he only missed me when he told me he did? Maybe that was the one time he actually didn't miss me! Why do we need words to be sure if what other people feel for us is true? Is it the distance? The physical absence of another? The impossibility of a hug in lonely nights? The fact that I can't just get dressed and walk to his home to see him when I miss him? The fact that I can't call just to say hi? And why can't I? Is it forbidden? Why do I always need a reason to call? Who said that there have to be rules?!

I read almost everything I wrote... The mails I sent him and the ones I didn't. And well, the ones that remained only in my notebook... They are deep, honest, emotional, dramatic, whining, depressing, sad, mad, desperate... They are everything I was in moments I wrote them. And... If I didn't know the person who wrote them I would probably wonder how did she survive those years. Actually, I do wonder how did she make it? Where did all the strength come from? Are we really destined to make it through everything life throws at us?

And why wasn't that enough for me? Why couldn't I just be happy with some beautiful days I spent with him? Why couldn't I just continue my life as if nothing has changed? Why did I have to build such high expectations? Why did I have to push the limits to scare him away? Why was I frightened by everything I felt? Why wasn't I strong enough to handle it on my own two feet? Why couldn't I live simply and let him simply live? Why was I thinking too much? And why am I doing so now?

So many mixed emotions... Ups and downs... Confusion and clarity... My life on the paper... Me in the ink... Days and nights of happiness, hope, fear, joy, anxiety, love... Years of love! Everything comes down to this one moment... Exactly this moment in which I feel... I feel calm.

Have I really let it all go? Am I free? And of what? I read somewhere that love alters, and I believe it does so. Did mine?

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