Tag Archives: love

on love #1

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love will make it up for all the rest. for our failures, our delusions, our solitude, our bitterness, our grudges, our inabilities. love is  what’s going to fill the void, the knight that carries our redemption. love is an undeserved trophy, a self-built house of cards whose shakiness we keep ignoring. it’s the religion we turn to when there’s nothing else to hang on to. an excuse to feel sad. love is what we want. what allows us to walk in the rain and feel reassured or sit in a dark corner, head between hands, in company of our pathetic self.

Philip:

I’d just left his house and he told me ‘I’ll see you after the week end, I’m going to London’. If he’d stabbed me right in the chest it would have hurt the same. you don’t need to go out for the week end with your fucking friends if you’re in love. you have me. I have you. we have each other. we belong to each other. you can’t make this decisions for yourself, you owe me an explanation, we owe each other. always. I own you.

It looked easier on the paper. I slammed the door and walked away but I kept checking my phone, convinced he was about to call or text me. he’s going to cancel his week-end of course, he’s not gonna fuck this up, he doesn’t wanna lose me. but no, the phone doesn’t ring, nor do I receive a text message.

love is somebody else’s skin in your bed, an arrow tattooed on your groin, a borrowed hooded jacket that you’re not going to give back, a shared cigarette, a drive home on a cab at 4 in the morning holding hands.

now, this is just wishful thinking really.

after three days, I haven’t heard from him and I figured, well, he’s trying to teach me a lesson, we need time apart, he’s right, I’m too exclusive. I should probably enjoy myself too, go out with friends, have a drink, maybe even get laid.

but no, I’m not interested in doing anything, let alone seeing anyone. I can just think of me, it’s enough really, I’m happy that way, just waiting like a stupid sod on the couch.

It’s monday, I think he’s back from London, he definitely is, yes, he’s return flight was last night and it’s 5 pm now, he must be getting off work, he’ll call soon.

yes, he’ll call soon. yes….

or maybe not.

It’s saturday, he never called, but fuck him, he’s the one missing out, by thursday he will be erased from my mind. he just wasn’t the one, he’s too cold and also very damaged, he’s got psychological problems, he’s been through a lot, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

he’ll call me, eventually. I know that.

but It’ll be too late.

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julian

we met julian in dublin, one night. he was wet the same way stray dogs are wet when they’re lost in the rain. we took him home and he stayed with us for three days. we never left the house during those days. when I say ‘we’ I mean myself and tina. I guess we never went out because all we needed was there. we fell in love with julian. instant love. no-need-to-explain love. we spent most of the time looking at julian and trying to communicate with him in alternative ways. words didn’t work because he spoke no english. julian is (was?) from france. he was confused by the way we kept staring at him but at the same time he seemed to understand that something was going on. in other moments we danced and performed for him, something that he didn’t seem to enjoy rather than being surprised by. as if suddenly he discovered the way a person can be free. we didn’t know what happened to him before but life must have been rough with him. I think that’s why we always felt the urge to tell him that we were his friends. those with julian where strange and happy days. one night something happened, though. it was obvious that we where both sexually attracted to him, but engaging in a three-sum with tina is something I’d never be able to do. that night, julian slept with her and I slept in my room which was next to hers. that was the first and last time I felt jealousy for tina, because she was getting something I wanted. I couldn’t fall asleep because my body kept shaking at the thought of being left out. it was obvious that julian was moving his first steps into his gayness but it was still early for him to sleep with a guy. and my fear of rejection prevented me from making the first move. that’s what it was. it was just for a moment, that night, but it was intense. the strange thing is that above anything else I felt alive and I felt that I was leading the life I wanted to live. even if I couldn’t have him at least I knew what i wanted and I think, in the end, that’s what we were trying to pass on to him those days: that freedom only comes with courage, and even when you have it, you have to fight to keep it. every day of your life. since then, there have been so many times where I felt my ownness was slipping away and had to get it back, whether it took leaving the country, going out for a walk or saying fuck off. he was seeing that, through us, and he was making a decision. he seemed to be saying to us: that’s how I want to live, I understand, there is no other way. if the days with julian come up during a conversation we are always struck by how important it was meeting him, even for such a short time. mirroring us, he reinforced our decisions and made our encounter the most unforgettable exchange. when we talk about him, we always hope it’s the same for him. the thought that he removed us from his memory is saddening but also unlikely.

it’s the last morning, julian really has to go. we put him on a cab headed for I don’t remember where. I can see his long dark hair and his perfect lips behind the glass, his shy hand waving goodbye. we close the door behind us. we both have our robes on. we don’t talk about him much. we make coffee. I can’t remember what we did that day. we never saw him again.

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chronicle of a dead pigeon

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it’s been on the roof of the building facing my kitchen window for over a week. it’s a dead pigeon. when I first saw it I was kind of grossed out. I don’t like dead animals but then, who does? I’ve been walking back and forth from my room to the kitchen, aimless, just waiting for the little corpse to change position. I don’t leave my apartment much lately. mainly because I don’t feel like it. scrolling down on the facebook page and staring at the pigeon have been my main activities. after a couple of days from when i first saw it, it moved a few meters on the right. and there where white puffy feathers that looked like snowflakes everywhere. a part of me found it romantic. I’ve been thinking about this guy lately. somebody I couldn’t have. i actually thought he was out of my mind, gone for good, but he was only hidden somewhere in the back of my head. I wondered how long it would take for the dead pigeon to disappear. nobody is going to remove it from the roof and it could take a couple of months before it rots away. but the wind may do the job earlier. little parts of it though, little bones, will probably resist for a while, I thought. even in a few years, little traces of its presence may still be noticed, if you look carefully. the same way somebody who really mattered never actually leaves. even if what’s left is nothing but an annoying reminder of the days you spent trying to get him out of your head. trying to feel better without being actually sick. hoping that a painkiller could resolve the problem or pressing a button would automatically erase the thought of him.

I finally went out for a run the other day and realized I didn’t pay any attention to the pigeon for almost 24 hours and rushed back home. when I saw it, the pigeon looked as if it had been turned inside out. I could only tell it was a pigeon because I knew, otherwise it would’ve been an unidentified bird. I see the guy  and realize how I’ve never been able to figure him out. I know, if I’ve been there and felt that way, there must be a reason. but right now I’m just observing a dead animal. I might as well go out and wait for the wind to do the job.

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