Wensday, 29th of February 2012

Dear F,

   I'm so sorry. I think I'm fucking with your mind. I think I'm fucking with my mind. In all honesty I'm not sure what it is that I'm doing. To you or to me. I wonder if you know.
  I do not want to say it. I know that I like you, that much is undeniable, but the fact remains that in the late hours of night and the early ones of the morning it's him I think about. Sometimes though you shyly take his place. But very rarely, usually when I wonder what I feel for you.
  I can't deny the shared smiles, the knowing glances when we share a private joke or a certain intimacy. And the thought of those moments makes my heart constricts. I'm complicating things I know I am. I'm so sorry.
  Please don't like me. I'll hurt you. It's one thing to fuck my emotions up and another entirely to do that to you. Stop coming so close you might get to know me much better that I can stand. More than you can stand.
  Isn't it safer better to remain friends.

  Sorry,
   Emilia

Fragments #1

There it was again: that conversation.
"My problem is," J said, "she doesn't want to get over him." I rolled my eyes and sipped my beer. But I did. I did want to get over him.
  "You don't understand," Ellie stepped in defending me, "not everyone works the way you do."
  "Oh, come on Ellie, it's her choice. She chooses this situation, that's what annoying me."
  I kept on drinking, pretending I didn't hear, wondering whether any other of the clients in the bar had heard. At some point I had had enough. "J stop. I'm in love with this guy, ok? Doesn't matter whether he deserves it or not, that's the truth."
  "Bullshit Emilia, that's bullshit. You're not in love with that guy."
  How would you know? I wanted to ask but I bit my tongue. You've never been in love. All you've ever done is toy with those people's emotions. And one day you'll fall in love and then you'll understand.
  "Shut up J! For fuck's sake you don't know what's going on in people's head alright?" Ellie defended me.
  I sipped my beer. "J leave me alone. What you say is true, to some point. And I could, if I wanted to, to get with another guy, even just for fun, but I just don't operate like that. At some point, my point, I'll get over him and that's the end of that."
 

  At that moment, all I wanted to do is smoke. It's a bit ridiculous, I don't even smoke. I've tried it and didn't like it. But sometimes my fingers tremble with the need to hold a cigarette. I don't like the stale taste it leaves to my mouth. But I still kind of miss the burning in my lungs and throat.
  At least then something else burns rather than my heart.

  My emotions have been on a roller coaster lately. The other day he was going over my skeches when he came accross of that one, the drawing of a shirtless guy. I had done it very well actually. It even looked like the person I used as a model. He paused for a moment. I didn't see his expression.
  Did you feel any jealousy, I wonder? I hope you did.

I just don't feel up to dealing with you at the moment

  Or the world in general.

  I'm in one of my 'moods'. You know, when everything's fine one moment and then something small and insignificant happens and you feel like shit and nothing can make you feel better. This pressure in my chest it will go away, if I smile long enough and pretend long enough it will go away.

  And time heals, is that not what they say?

  I just need someone right now.

  No, not someone.
  You.

Monday, 20th of February 2012

Dear X,
 
  Lord, will this never stop? This blog is about you in the end. But I suppose it cannot be helped, and I might as well write things down now that I think them. For all my wish for oblivion, I fear it.
  So today I read some extracts of my other letters to you to a friend, let's call her Annie. Annie was actually quite rather surprised. She said she didn't have me for a romantic, at least not one so intense. After I read her those parts she fell silent, as if she were not sure what was quite the right thing to say.
  But then again, I'm not sure what is the right thing to say. So instead I write meaningless little post on an anonymous blog on the internet.
  God I wish you were here. That little smile of yours today made me so happy. And afterwards so infinetelly sad. Why is it that everything with you is in the extreme? I wish I could just be.
 
  And loneliness ate away her heart.

  I still remember sleeping in your bed during that trip. You were not in the room. You slept somewhere else. And the next day, you took me as I was, pajamas and all for breakfast. Said it was ok I didn't wear regular clothes.
  And afterwards, after you learnt something that had happened, I remember your anger. Not at me, I had nothing to do with it. By I felt it nevertheless, I could simply read you at that moment. For two people so distant, we understand each other very much. You read me too sometimes, better than anyone else does.
  Actually, that's not really helping.
  Some lingering glances of yours are not helping either. I don't understand you. Please take all the memories of you and go away. I don't know how to deal with you when I see you everyday.

Goodnight

P.S. Your arms were so strong around me that day I was crying for my friend's father. You calmed me. I can't believe we will never be more than friends.

You make me go empty.

 Dear X,

  When I see you, it is as if you're tugging every emotion in me, wrenching it slowly from my heart. I feel as if I could suffocate in you, get lost in you. I feel like you're overwhelming me again, bluring what is right and wrong, bluring what I want, what I should want. It is as if you're there solely to hurt me.
  I want to
joke with you in the school hallways
hold your hand
kiss you
rip that stupid pink jacket you have that doesn't you in the least
have your fingertips caress my face
feel you under the blankets
to drink hot chocolate with you one lazy Sunday morning
look at you and not hurt
have an "us", even for a while
exchange stupid cheezy songs with you
get drunk with you in the beach, at summer, under the stars
hold you under an umbrella
have you text me for stupid random little things that you just had share with me
hug you again like that day when I was crying and though you asked me whether I had been moved you had said to someone else before that I you were sure I hadn't, that I weren't ok
solve math with you
discuss books with you
cuddle under the blankets and watch Game of Thrones with you
you
you
you
you

get over you
forget you
never see you again 
let go

let go

let go


  Sometimes I wish I had an accident that would erase some part of my memory. Your part.
  I cannot wait for the end of the school year. At last, there will be an end.

Theory # 16: You will change opinion of things you thoguht you were sure of.

A lot.

   I do not know what to think anymore. God, I feel as if you're overwhelming me too much again. And I have never been sure of what you feel. I should just get up and leave. And yet, everytime I say I will, something happens and in the end I do not.

  Or that it was possible. Or that you didn't at all.
  This is not good.

Thursday, 19th of January, 2012 Greece

There are so many things I want to say but I don't know how or to whom or if it will even make any difference. I've tried blogging about them but everytime I'm not what's the proper way to begin and I simply stare at the screen. I guess writing from the heart takes something more than a keyboard. For me, there has to be paper, an envelope and a pen.

  And someone to send the letter to of course.

  Maybe I should get a penpal.

---------------------

 Dear X,

   You may or may not know who you are. I've written about you before, in the end, I fear that this entire blog is going to end up being about you and only about you. If this is my secret personnal blog where I'm supposed to write my innermost thoughts then that is quite rather dangerous. I don't want it to be all about you, especially since I don't want it to be about you at all. Period.

  I'm not going to say that I'll get over you 'cause I'll simply be lying to myself again and there is no point in repeating my self. But I've come to hate this. Whatever it is. I hate to feel this numb expectation everytime I see you. Because I'm tired of my feelings being about you. There is no us, ther could have been, but there never was.

  I just need to fall in love again. With someone else. Someone who will not be you. Maybe with someone with whom it will work out. I need to have something to look forward to. Sometimes life seems so empty and time seems to pass me by like wind and I realise that maybe I'm the one who's empty.

  I want to change that but I'm not sure I can. I just want this terrible ache in my heart to stop, though I know it is not because of you that I have it but rather because of what I would like to have with the image of you that I have in my mind. I want someone to hold me in the night under the blankets, someone who will kiss me lightly, who will caress my skin, someone to make love with. Not sex, in the instictual way of the word, but rather someone with whom touching will be enough. Someone in whom I'll get lost even if I never find my way back.

  I want to run from this place but I am too much of a coward and too caught up with what I'm supposed to be to do that. Sometimes I feel that I'm only the expectations of others and that it is for others that I struggle. I wonder when I'll have the courage to get up and just walk away. Or at least, that if I stayed, there would be something worth staying for.

  You do not care about those things of course. Why should you? I don't expect you to anyway. Yet I find myself writing to you - in an anonymous blog because I'd never be able to send all this in written form to you in person - for a reason that I cannot comprehend. Maybe it's because I really really did wish that I'd be able to do that in real life, not in the internet.

  And so you see, you are like that. You're like a social expectation, a habit. My feelings for you now feel like something that merely has to be done. I've gotten accustomed to you and I think that I'm terrified to go out there and love an other, fall for an other, be accepted or rejected by another. Because I know how to handle it when it comes from you.

  And sometimes we still talk, in the corridor or someplace else, little insignificant conversations that I remember afterwards and replay over and over in my head in spite of everything. And you see, I wonder if you ever do. I wonder if you ever care, if you ever wish that I would stay a bit longer to talk, if you ever consider to do it yourself.

  I wonder if you ever remember. If you remember that reckless confession of mine, your answer, everything. And I wonder what it meant for you.

  And now I have to go, because I am expected and I know that I have made no progress. And that is what hurts me the most. I always stay in words.

  And words have stopped giving me comfort.

  And so I leave you.

  And wonder whether there is any difference.

   Emilia.