You have to believe in yourself even if whole world is unsure in you. It will take all your courage and bravery to face that crazyness, but keep in mind, you are never alone, even if it seems like there is not a single soul in the world to fight beside you, there often are those who’ll take your hand and walk with you.
My days were glum and I was petrified, afraid from all the things that were so alien to me. I was not sure of how to deal with them, but I assume that time surely takes it’s turn and life is not about giving you straight answers, but in a great despair there is something that shall pull you towards bright light. I was so sure I was alone.
Name given to me by my parents is Annie(as they were sweetly calling me) but, my name is so not like me, and at times I think it does not really go with what I am, as it is Anastasia from Greek “Rebirth”. But at times I think that it is representing my being. I fall down, cry in vain and kill what makes my pain so deep, then I get up again and move and walk and go to where it takes me from there.
Before I could have sworn on life that there are none like me or just alike. There was just me and things I made up in my mind – my imaginary world, protecting me from all the rest of outside reality. I could just wrap up in it and enjoy my peace and silence, my misery and pain, my worries would be so much taken away by the ones I created in my vaudeville. It seemed so perfect, but then I had to move on my own with the life. Go away from the family nest and feel the way outside is colder and so much has to be yet learned.
I was so absorbed in what was going on, I went with wits of things, but that just made me more and more dissatisfied. I knew reality was so much worse then I had thought it’d be. But I had someone walking path with me.
One sunny day, as it began I was there, sitting in cafe, enjoying Latte and observing life. The way people come and go, the way they rush and work, talk, laugh, lie, cry and break inside. That day I met this guy, this quite tall, slim, brunette, green eyes, that looked as if he is not here, but far away in different land. He moved in pace, he’s having style, he’s clothes are suiting him so right, he takes his coffee, comes closer to my table outside cafe and sits just there, opposite me, without a word. He caught my interest a lot, I was not aware that I started looking at him so surprised, but he just putted sugar in a cup, stirred it, sipped a bit and pulled out pack of Winston Blue, took out one cigarette, lit it up and casually took a toke. I snapped out of such observational trance when he looked up at me, with same distant look in eyes. Right then I took a sip and looked aside, then took one of my Marlboros Red and started smoking.
We sat like this until his cup was empty. In silence, acknowledging each others presence, yet somehow not willing to admit it.
Just as I was about to get up, he spoke to me whilst looking aside onto the passers by.
– Do you always hold cigarette with your right hand when you smoke?
I was a bit surprised, it took me couple of seconds to get back to where we are and to react.
– Well, mostly yes, but at times I hold it with my left hand.
– I somehow always tend to hold it in my right, even if my both hands are quite busy, I still manage to hold it with my right hand fingers. Quite a grown in habit, would you agree?
And then he looks at me, as I am standing, hes look not so much distant anymore. Right in this moment he is here, present in this time and space and his attention is all onto me.
– Would you like another cup of that coffee? My treat.
– Sure I would like one more. Latte please.
And this is how I met Erik. He seemed so strange, at first, but then as we spoke, and as it went, we ended up to walk in park under the rain that day. Then went to buy a bottle of Captain Morgans rum and went to his place. We were on and on having conversations about all in the world. From why would stories of Kain and Abel be so strangely harsh, to the decisions made by Kafka in “Kafka on the Shore” and how love is so unpredictable in “Norwegian Wood”, then the amazing story of the woman and her life by Wei Hui and the bitsof why Nabokov made his “Lolita” in such way. Then we imagined the small stories in the Dennis Kuo piano pieces.
I then, together with this man, was sitting on the window sill, staring at the sky, which was clear that day, so we could be bathed in moonlight whilst dreaming out to stars and telling things, then falling silent. And sitting there, smoking, looking out and listening to piano music, which Erik admitted to have a crush for.
From that day on we would meet up every weekend, then at times even randomly he’d ask me to come over in the late evening, just right before last train departs. And every night I’d come around he’d be just there at times just sitting still and be somewhere distant solving his puzzles and keeping his mind sane. I would just be there, just be there with him. It was enough for him. At times I’d hug him he would shrug in discomfort, but as time went on, he used to my perks of touching him at times, hugging him when I feel like it needs there, so as it went he once just announced silently to me, for me to move in with him. Somehow he decided it on his own and I was just in no way to refuse. So I agreed.
So time still goes, continues its way by seconds and minutes, hours that inevitably lead to months somehow, I am here, living with this man. But we’re in comfort with each other. And somehow… It got to me that I am falling deeply for this person. Not sure he sees it, and I think it’s for better for him not to discover about my true deep feelings towards him.
I see his face right now, tears falling down, he’s holding phone and someone’s there. I am so flustered with confusion, just standing looking and somehow I just know I am not the one to interrupt this somewhat important moment in his life.
And then he pushes words and they come out.
– A… Adrian? Long time. How is it going? Where are you?
Erik wipes his tears and starts to smile with glimpse of disbelieve on his face.
It’s his long hidden deep Love. After all this years he shows up to take him away from me. It’s so much pain in my chest right now, because I see him smile so sincerely, which rarely happens. I so envy this Adrian for being the awaited one, the jewel held to heart of Erik so dear to him, so close and precious. I hate you, Adrian, whoever you are, for doing what you did.
I can just feel that pain is hurting me greatly and I am on verge of tears myself. This instant moment happy Erik fleets the room. I don’t really at the moment care as for where he’ll end, I am just left in here to be able to silently set free my tears.
I cry, I smoke, I… I am unable to kill this pain, but I’ll just fall asleep, deep sleep, as I’m exhausted, just so weak.
There is a way of feelings to be kept and sealed, but the greater the feeling, the harder it’s kept away, it’s coming back with every memory and sight of whom you dearly care. But wind of changes always shall attempt to whoosh away the bits that might have mattered more or less.