I've Lost my Inspiration, my Appetite and my Ability to Love
I'll say today that she's pretty much gone from my mind, my heart and my soul; taking with her not only what I loved the most (her) but those three things that kept my mind clear at times: my inspiration to write, my appetite for ever greater amounts of pasta, and my ability to love someone other than a hundred dollar bill.
She's not with me, around me, inside me, and she is not either in those places we once went to together and which used to remind me of her back in spring and summer. The leaves are falling from the trees in these early September days, and my memories of her are bailing out of my head like rats from a sinking ship.
The thought of her doesn't keep me awake after midnight like it used to do, staring at the ceiling fan in my bedroom trying to fight back her absence and the summer heat. I don't feel lost anymore during week days or restless during weekends, wandering around town. I don't open my e-mail hoping (and wishing and God please listen to my prayers for Christ's sake!) for a message from her in my inbox... and my cell phones doesn't play the tunes of love, our love. Fuck I just let it ring, anyway it could only be a collector or a telemarketer.
During the weeks and months after our encounter, my body, mind and soul were devoted to worship her. During that time I went through the whole range of feelings the human hormones could possibly produce, leaving me with a hangover so deep and intense that if I didn't know it was due to her absence, I would've checked my self in the hospital arguing the proximity of my own death.
Back then I felt happy at a times looking at our pictures together and remembering our kisses and caresses. I also felt sad, very sad due to her absence; I felt desperation and confusion by having found and lost my soul mate. I felt anger with her and with me for being together even though we knew it was just temporary. Every now and then I Felt hope to see her again some day; jealousy towards those guys who were around her; hate to her previous boyfriends and lovers. Sitting in a bookstore staring at my coffee and surrounded by people I felt a terrible loneliness and at the very same time I was suspicious for not receiving news from her in the last 24 hours. I even felt resignation together with sadness knowing that time and space will erode our feelings, not to mention irritation for not being able to fly there and see her, touch her, huge her, kiss her, love her and make her mine. But above all I felt longingness, knowing that there's just no hope and that might be why it feels so sad. Maybe we could have returned together, but I could have never bring back those special moments.
The people at the YMCA -the gym where I go- where at least glad that I wasn't as full of energy as before, leaving an empty tread mill during my peak hour visits. But if during those 3 weeks that she spent with me I had been a rollercoster of feelings, after her departure my mood was like a brick thrown overboard a ship, going deeper and deeper to the bottom. Living a tasteless life, hibernating.
It's been 6 months since her departure, and yesterday I got an e-mail from her with a link to a web-based photo album. Thirty nine pictures of her and some of her friends in what appeared to be a nice weekend trip to a resort. A lot of pictures of her in a nice little bikini by the pool, and a big party during the night. Few months ago those pictures would have raised my blood pressure to the roof both by seeing her two piece swimming suit, and those guys with whom she was happily drinking and laughing (in her bikini), but now I just saw'em as a nice weekend trip with some of her friends. By just thinking about her I used to catch my breath, now my heart rate was as flat as it could.
I'm in a period of my life where there's no girl in the present or in the horizon (and if I stretch it a little bit) not even in the past that could make me feel those butterflies fluttering in my stomach -butterflies that at times felt like bats. Am I perhaps at a point when the only logical explanation to what I'm feeling and thinking can be summarize as being plainly fucked up?
I'm going to think about it very carefully tonight... but before I'm gona get a nice ice cold can of Coke; I'll surf the internet for a while looking for free and tasteless short-porn clips to watch; then I'll indulge myself in some first-person shooting mindless computer game (like a hostage rescue mission in Rainbow Six where I can massacre the hostages or shot my own teammates recklessly); and then maybe I'll just go to bed and would think about what I've wrote sometime next week.
My mental health and future depends on it but if I can do it tomorrow, then why should I bother today?
She's not with me, around me, inside me, and she is not either in those places we once went to together and which used to remind me of her back in spring and summer. The leaves are falling from the trees in these early September days, and my memories of her are bailing out of my head like rats from a sinking ship.
The thought of her doesn't keep me awake after midnight like it used to do, staring at the ceiling fan in my bedroom trying to fight back her absence and the summer heat. I don't feel lost anymore during week days or restless during weekends, wandering around town. I don't open my e-mail hoping (and wishing and God please listen to my prayers for Christ's sake!) for a message from her in my inbox... and my cell phones doesn't play the tunes of love, our love. Fuck I just let it ring, anyway it could only be a collector or a telemarketer.
During the weeks and months after our encounter, my body, mind and soul were devoted to worship her. During that time I went through the whole range of feelings the human hormones could possibly produce, leaving me with a hangover so deep and intense that if I didn't know it was due to her absence, I would've checked my self in the hospital arguing the proximity of my own death.
Back then I felt happy at a times looking at our pictures together and remembering our kisses and caresses. I also felt sad, very sad due to her absence; I felt desperation and confusion by having found and lost my soul mate. I felt anger with her and with me for being together even though we knew it was just temporary. Every now and then I Felt hope to see her again some day; jealousy towards those guys who were around her; hate to her previous boyfriends and lovers. Sitting in a bookstore staring at my coffee and surrounded by people I felt a terrible loneliness and at the very same time I was suspicious for not receiving news from her in the last 24 hours. I even felt resignation together with sadness knowing that time and space will erode our feelings, not to mention irritation for not being able to fly there and see her, touch her, huge her, kiss her, love her and make her mine. But above all I felt longingness, knowing that there's just no hope and that might be why it feels so sad. Maybe we could have returned together, but I could have never bring back those special moments.
The people at the YMCA -the gym where I go- where at least glad that I wasn't as full of energy as before, leaving an empty tread mill during my peak hour visits. But if during those 3 weeks that she spent with me I had been a rollercoster of feelings, after her departure my mood was like a brick thrown overboard a ship, going deeper and deeper to the bottom. Living a tasteless life, hibernating.
It's been 6 months since her departure, and yesterday I got an e-mail from her with a link to a web-based photo album. Thirty nine pictures of her and some of her friends in what appeared to be a nice weekend trip to a resort. A lot of pictures of her in a nice little bikini by the pool, and a big party during the night. Few months ago those pictures would have raised my blood pressure to the roof both by seeing her two piece swimming suit, and those guys with whom she was happily drinking and laughing (in her bikini), but now I just saw'em as a nice weekend trip with some of her friends. By just thinking about her I used to catch my breath, now my heart rate was as flat as it could.
I'm in a period of my life where there's no girl in the present or in the horizon (and if I stretch it a little bit) not even in the past that could make me feel those butterflies fluttering in my stomach -butterflies that at times felt like bats. Am I perhaps at a point when the only logical explanation to what I'm feeling and thinking can be summarize as being plainly fucked up?
I'm going to think about it very carefully tonight... but before I'm gona get a nice ice cold can of Coke; I'll surf the internet for a while looking for free and tasteless short-porn clips to watch; then I'll indulge myself in some first-person shooting mindless computer game (like a hostage rescue mission in Rainbow Six where I can massacre the hostages or shot my own teammates recklessly); and then maybe I'll just go to bed and would think about what I've wrote sometime next week.
My mental health and future depends on it but if I can do it tomorrow, then why should I bother today?
Jean-Francois was drunk at 8:55 PM
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