I head back home reluctantly after work because I know nobody’s waiting for me there. I will find a pile of unread books, empty bed and a sink full of unwashed dishes.
I still feel young and reckless. Still make the same mistakes, like the same old songs and wear trainers with my dresses.
Let me keep quiet. My head is in the clouds all the time. And I knew I lose so easily everything that I was looking for a while. This time wasn’t different. I didn’t surprise myself. I have some moments of silence. I am somewhere else, I speak a foreign language, think in a foreign language and love in a foreign language. Sometimes I cry but only because it reminds me that my heart is broken. Again. And I stop trusting people a little bit, for a moment.
Today I’m glad that all the room taken by me in his life is that space where he saved my texts and emails. We didn’t swap our favourite books, experiences, secrets. He still doesn’t know who I am and what I’m doing here, I still don’t know what he’s dreaming about and what is his biggest tragedy. We live in a parallel space and time, two different cities, different environments. Different jokes seem funny for us, different films make us cry. Something else makes us laugh or awkward. I realized.
I sleep in underwear, dancing naked in the kitchen in the mornings, eating chips for breakfast and singing loud ‘Boys don’t cry’ by The Cure. Sometimes I smell his skin and fabric softener on my pillow. It makes me dizzy for a minute but I’m forgetting quickly.
I’m walking in Camden Town. I liked this city afresh. I learnt so much. My skin smells dust and coconut. I catch hot air into my lungs. Step slowly along the sidewalk. Smile to random people on the tube. I feel alive.
Have you found someone who you can tell everything?
Because I haven’t.