Dear S,

Two nights ago I had a dream about you. And all my feelings, all those painful illusions I have had for the last six years, they were resurrected. I woke up missing you, and for the next two days I lived of you. I forgot the real world and I let you consume me. I went back to you and I missed you all over again. Tonight, I'm saying goodbye.

For six years, I loved you unconditionally. I loved you, and I remembered you, and I needed you. I'm so sorry, but I cannot do that anymore. I need to accept my past for what it is and then I need to go into the future. And that's okay.

You were my first love, you were the boy who for six years I held onto to as some sort of hope. I wrote about magic strings, about the universe having some magic in it to bring us back together again. I wished for it and every time I'd have a dream about you, you were back in my life on page one. You became my oxygen, just like you were that summer, when I was nothing but a child. A beautiful child who fell in love for the first time, a child who needed you to remind me that I was more, so much more, than I gave myself credit for.

And first love never dies, it becomes this feeling buried deep into our skin, and it lives along with us, as we grow, it grows too, into memories, into mistakes, into regret and into passion.

I loved you and I always will, but I need to accept that you are my past. And just because I had you then, just because I never had you really, just because my past is great, it doesn't mean that my future cannot be great too. I truly believe that one day it will. I need to believe. I keep telling myself that I am no romantic but I am. Of course I am, I held onto a dream for six years and I never let it die, and I didn't let it kill me either.

If there were those magic strings between lovers then maybe you'd come back to me, but I cannot live of that hope any longer. I need to put you behind me. You and your gorgeous smile and that beautiful letter, that e-mail that turned my world upside down. S, I wish you love, I wish you the greatest love one could possibly have. But I need to wish that for myself too.

We aren't children anymore, and the fact is, I will probably never see you again. I have come to accept that. I have come to accept that this is probably my last dream of you. I have to accept that you are my past but not my future. I have to accept that this is my last letter to you.

And if one day I feel like I need you all over again, I'll live with it, but I won't let it consume me. I'll turn you into literature, I'll turn feelings into words and I'll gracefully move forward. As you have. Because no one does what I do, let failed love stories control their lives for no reason at all. Except we never really failed, have we? No, of course we haven't. We were the most beautiful story I know. A story, but not a possibility. Good on paper, but just not possible in the real world. The world into which I must return now.

S, my love for you is unconditional. It will live along my side as I grow older and let other love stories enter my heart.

Take care, I wish you everything, I little bit of heaven, and a little bit of hell.

V

My magic strings

My dreams control my life. I fell asleep last night and dream of S, and I woke up with all my feelings for him resurrected. I do this to myself, I let them get under my skin and I go over the heartbreak all over again. I miss him now. I miss him and I want him and I'd give him anything to know where he is. The tragedy of it all though is that I know that I will never find out. I will never see him again, or hear of him, I will never know more than I already do. The thought terrifies me. How is it possible that when we're children we feel so much? And when we grow into adults, the feelings become numb, we're unable to give ourselves away with the same strength?

S, I want to believe in magic strings. Come find me, and I'll come fly away with you.

Fly with me...

I feel trapped in relationships because people have attachments, whilst I destroy mine. Belonging is painful to me because it ties me down and I don’t want to be tied down. I want to be free, I want to fly, to run, to swim, to breathe and get inspired and let the wind take me away to wherever it blows. Most people don’t do that, they like having their home and their secret places, they like having a shore to come back to. I like coming back to different shores. Whenever I set out to sea, I go somewhere new. I guess I’m looking for a restless spirit who can fly along my side, who is just as keen to discover the world as I am.

(Source: Yana Payusova, http://farbrook.net/payusova/)

Will they ever be forgiven? That question wraps up around my body and I cannot let it go. Will they? Does any of us really get a chance for a clean slate to free ourselves from our past mistakes? Can we let go of the past and judge someone solely on the basis of who they are today, of who they promise to become tomorrow?

They throw themselves into religion, but with what purpose? They seek redemption, like all of us do. But is the world too unforgiving? We praise the bible and the church but it is those two institutions that press us to forgive, to give chances. But do we listen? Will we ever look at criminals and see just humans, in the exact forms in which they came to us, in the forms in which they plead redemption.

I forgive because I know. Because once it's touched you, once you've become that child who is punished for her fathers crimes, your eyes are renewed to a new light. Life is no longer black and white because it can also be stark red, the color of blood, or blue, or brown, or multicolored. The color of the ocean, the color of hope, of death, of art and tragedy culminated into one. I forgive, but I was taught to. I was taught to by him, by his mistakes, and although I've let go of him, although I no longer think of him or miss him, I forgive him. Will you do the same for me?

Will we ever forgive them? Do they need us to?

So what shall I tell you? That I don't go to my classes because I cannot make them feel important? Or that I stay up all night rushing through my feelings so I'm too exhausted to hear my alarm clock the next morning? Because both would be true but neither will be said.

My mum isn't talking to me and I miss her. It seems like people play such stupid games to deem themselves some fake importance, to make life meaningful in some sense, to pretend that we're here for a reason and that there's standards we must measure up to. But there are no standards really, right? Just those that our parents or our teachers uphold us to. When did they forget how difficullt it is to be young? When everything can come crushing down from just one wrong feeling, when we still believe our hearts and the promises people make to us...

I don't want to die without any scars. Would you understand that? Or would you tell me that truly wise people learn from the mistakes of others and not their own? But wouldn't that be a life lived through someone else? Wouldn't that mean that I'd be like a guest at a drive-in cinema, watching the huge screen as people lived out there, as they loved and fell and lost their way, only to find a better one later?

I have a choice to make. Next week, I could either go there, to Peter Pan, or I could stay here and be the perfect example of a student that is required of me by your standards. Will you still love me if I choose the former?

I drown in irrelevance.

Have a safe flight Peter Pan. Second star to the right and straight on til morning.

You know that feeling? That feeling when you just want the right thing to fall into the right place, not only because it’s right, but because it will mean that such a thing is still possible? I want to believe that.

(Source: Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist)

Everything is illuminated.

I look at the night sky and imagine your plane flying over my sky in just a few hours, touching the stars on its way.

Feel.

I haven't written in a while. To be honest, I just don't know where to start. I feel lost and bored and so out of place. I'm sitting in my flat alone as my flatmates are gone and I don't even know what country I'll be in tomorrow, and she asks me what it depends on and I honestly don't know. Does it depend on him or does it not, am I okay or am I not okay, can I love or I can I not. I just don't know anymore. I watched Mona Lisa Smile today and it's so beautiful and nice, a safe haven with wonderful friendships and cigarettes. I wish I could go there... but if I'm honest with myself, I doubt that would help. I doubt anything will. I just, I want to feel so much. I'm tired of being this empty shell, of not feeling, of not caring about anything. I want to feel, I want something big to happen and I want to feel something big about it. I want to feel feel feel feel feel.

Feel.

And now that I've type the word out this many times it looks strange as words often do. Feel... wha a strange word. Feel...

Feel...

Feel...

Feel feel feel... Is it actually a word? What a strange one.

Give me one wild word. Except for me the answer isn't in 'mosaic'. The answer is in love but I've become immune to it. Immune to love, that should be my new status update. Wouldn't that trigger an interesting discussion? Feel...