In-flight time

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.

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My mind

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.

This mental representation always comes.

When I think of you.

You cannot be here anymore

A light breeze

Everything is peaceful and beautiful around me

The sun is back

Summer finally takes place

The dead autumnal leaves in my heart

find their way to disappear

The snow is melting in my body

I feel warmness again

Air in my lungs is livable again

In this scenery of my life

There is no place for you

If I let you be

I will get rain

I will get cold

I will get sick

If you want to see me breathe

Please go and wish me peace

 

 

Typical us

Typical you

You have exams from now until the end of the month

I ask when exactly

I need the exact dates and time

So I can think of you specifically at that moment

Strongly and deeply

Like the last time

You refuse to give me these dates

Typical you

You don’t like to be forced to tell me something

The moment I ask

You always want to be free

To decide

Alright then stubborn baby!

I will have to think of you

From now till the end of the month

In general

Which I don’t mind

Because I think of you all the time already

I don’t need specific time to think of you

Typical me

Are we even?

Vacations 1

In two days

I will be by the sea

I like vacations by the sea

In high season

I don’t mind the crowd

The noise by the beach

I don’t need

Silence and desert

To think of you

I can easily extract myself

From the hectic world

To think of you

I just need a vast blue sky

And my full usual heart

The mass

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.

I just want to drown in the mass.