Tag Archives: coffee

I am in love

I am in love. I’m not sure when it started, although I think I know how, with his smile definitely with his smile.

He is imperfect and he is so guarded with his feelings that he hurts me, not all the time but enough times for me to know that, even though I love him he does not love me.

We haven’t spend time together in four weeks, real time I mean, not just bitching about work in a safe public place. I knew it the moment I told him I was hurt and not mad, the moment I told him he had been inconsiderate and disrespectful that we were done. He never apologized and he never called me back for coffee Sunday mornings or dinner and sex.

He never apologized.

And I never called him back.

I never called him back even though I love him, even though he is in my heart and in my mind constantly. If I did, after what he said to me, I would loose all my self respect and I couldn’t live with myself then.

I can live without him, I can live in pain and sorrow, I can live with my tears and my sleepless nights but I cannot live without self respect.

He told me he didn’t care if I cared. When I was hurt, he didn’t care. Then I knew that even though I loved him and I love him still I couldn’t be with him.

Walk through the darkness of everyday life after the loss of a friend. Thinking and feeling what was to have a friend, what was to share a cup of coffee, what was to live everyday life with a little more light than I have now.

To learn and to relearn to move, to breathe, to talk, to work . . . To function without my friend. A friend, a good and true friend, such a rare thing to find, such an oddity an anomaly – at least in my life.-

A friend lost forevermore. No god, no heaven, no afterlife for me and therefore forever without my friend I will be.

Anthony David

It seems I am at the end and the beginning, of what it is gone and what it is to come. 

For what may come, I can only dream it, wish it and either, wait for it or run to it. But it would be to run into nothingness.

My dreams come true, if only . . . A memory only or wishful thinking. Unrealistic, exactly, I know reality too well.

To be loved why does it seem that we are not to love ourselves too? To be loved why does it seem that we are to sacrifice our heart and soul?

To keep them, to keep myself then it is for me the endless death of ongoing existence. Or it could only be that I feel sad today and tomorrow he will be gone from my thoughts.

Gone forever, until I see him again or hear him, or maybe until I see a cat or hear the rain. I’ll  forget him until my next Sunday morning cup of coffee.

Or maybe tomorrow I’ll remember when I was hurt, or when I cried, or when I didn’t understand and this thoughts will push him out of my mind.

At the end and at the beginning as it is suppose to be. To make room for what it is to come some things need to be gone. 

Gone, but not gone, never or maybe always.

Weird Things

Today a very weird thing happened as I rode the bus home from work today. When I was in college I used to go to this Spanish cafeteria called Las Torres, I used to go there with my best friend and a couple of other friends when I was in college. It seems so long ago and yet just yesterday, and it seems . . . so far, far away . . . I just remember it, all of a sudden.

I remember the wooden table and chairs, the dim lighting, the . . . was it an aquarium? It was the place to be, the place to see, the place, our place. I remembered it all of a sudden, and then I messaged my best friend. From long time ago, for far away across the sea, from an age were we ran barefoot on the sand.

And by a chance she, a million miles away in space and time, was just so driving in front of Las Torres.

Everywhere

He is everywhere I look, in everything I hear, in everything I sense. He just is . . . everywhere. In my memories, the good and the bad, in new movies that we would have gone to see together, in hikes we never took, in restaurants we never tried. He is in the clothes I wear, he is there in the mornings , he is there in the afternoons after work, he is there.

He is there in the morning, when I wake up and the coffee is not made, and there is no cup waiting for me. He is there, behind me in the mirror while I dry my hair, fighting me for space that we don’t share anymore, he is there when I’m cold because I’m cold and he is there when I’m hot because he was hot. He is there, everywhere.
I see him dancing around the house, I see him sticking his tongue out the corner of his mouth, I see him . . .  I see him just now where he is not.

He is not there, and yet I see him.