Yesterday I had ten hours ahead in-flight. I had prepared books and work to do, and I was looking forward to having plenty of time ahead to think of him.
One of the music in the radio program was the soundtrack of my favorite movie ever “Love Story”. It was just a movie on love in the 1970s. But I love everything about it. Maybe also because it happened in a campus. In Boston where I had lived for two years. The movie starts with the line “What can you say about a twenty-five-year-old girl who died? That she was beautiful. And brilliant. That she loved Mozart and Bach. And the Beatles. And me.” (extracts from the book of Eric Segal “Love Story”).
Yesterday when I listened to the soundtrack, I thought, if I ever made a movie, I would start it with a very short line: “I love him and I love Bach”. I don’t know what it would be about. But Bach would be there and him too. No matter what.
Ten hours in-flight. With him in my thoughts. As usual.
Outside mild autumn. The smell of chestnuts. The sound of footsteps on a ribbonlike layer of fallen leaves.
Suddenly here it is. A bit of spring or a piece of summer. Flowerbuds saying hello. The warm air beckoning the green leaves in dancing. The blue of the sky is definitely the blue of late spring or early summer. I feel warm. My cheeks borrow a pale rose tone.
Where am I ? What just happens ? It is a different world and a different season. This is however what I see and what I feel. It is so real.
Just a blink. The seasons changed, the temperatures inverted, the order of the nature altered.
If you belong to the majority, you can avoid thinking about lots of troubling things (IQ84 – Haruki Murakami)
I don’t think I am unhappy. I don’t think I am confused. I don’t think I am desperate. I don’t think my life is awful. I don’t think my loneliness is unbearable. When I open my eyes in the morning after usually six hours of sleep and never more, I don’t think my life and my heart are miserable. I can’t complain. But I always open my eyes with pain on my chest. For a few minutes. Until I get out of my bed and have the first coffee. If I stay in bed, the pain is weightier and impedes me to breathe. I don’t think I took the wrong path, and that I should take the opposite direction for my life right now. I love my job. I have a boss who trusts me as his own daughter and whom I profoundly admire. I could not ask for a better job. I have nice friends and colleagues. I have nice aunts and uncles and a bunch of cool cousins. I have great memories. I had great loves. So why then I always wake up with pain on my chest? Even just for a few minutes.
I do think I am not normal. I am not like the majority and thinking like the majority is not my strength. I do think I don’t know how to conform. That is my bad luck. If people run, I stay. If people stay, I escape. If people forget, I remember. If people hang on, I walk away. If people wake up, I start to dream. If people are angry, I reconcile. If people hate, I love. I can’t think like everybody. And it complicates my life. It is just the impossibility to think and act normally. Consciously and unconsciously. But time passes by and I begin to age. To have a normal life, I will need to conform and to act like the majority. My best chance is to find myself someone who either understands my weirdness or either accepts to ignore it, or who is weirder than me. Or I will have to end up alone. With my bizarre way of thinking.