Kirjeitä joita en koskaan lähetä – 001

Olet vahvin ihminen, jonka tunnen enkä ole sitä kai tarpeeksi painottanut. Minun on niin vaikea puhua asioista, enkä ole tiennyt mitä sanoisin. Luulit joskus että häpesin sinua kaiken sen takia mitä olet joutunut kokemaan ja kuinka käsittelet niitä asioita. Et salaa mitään, kerrot kaiken juuri niin raakana ja paljaana kuin on mahdollista ja se usein järkyttää ihmisiä, minuakin alkuun. En olisi ehkä halunnut tietää kaikkea ihan sillä tavoin kuin sain tietää ja sellaisissa tilanteissa. Kuitenkin olen kiitollinen siitä, että nyt tiedän. Tapasi haistattaa paskat koko maailmalle on aivan toisesta ulottuvuudesta, enkä ole kenessäkään muussa nähnyt samanlaista kapinahenkeä ja haistapaska-asennetta. Ihailen sitä sinussa, vaikka moni voisi pitää typeränä. Tälle maailmalle saakin haistatella, sen verran kovaa se sinuakin on päähän potkinut ja tavallaan yhä jatkaa potkimistaan.

Kaikesta huolimatta olet silti jaksanut pysyä järjissäsi enkä käsitä miten teet sen. Olet ehkä käynyt äärirajoilla, mutta harva palaa noilta rajoilta yhtä vahvana ja viisaana kuin sinä. Sinua saattaisi naurattaa se, että sanon sinua viisaaksi. Mutta sitäkin sinä olet. Olet selvinnyt asioista, joista moni ei koskaan toivu. En kyllä tiedä voiko toipumisesta sinunkaan kohdallasi puhua, mutta ainakaan et ole antanut niiden asioiden lannistaa kuten niin monelle käy. Olen oppinut sinulta sen, että lähestulkoon kaikesta voi selvitä ja jos sinä olet selvinnyt, niin kyllä minunkin täytyy. En tiedä millaisia päätöksiä olisin tehnyt, jos mielessäni ei olisi ollut sinun läpikäymäsi helvetti esimerkkinä siitä miten sitkeä voi ihminen olla.

Olen kiitollinen siitä että ylipäätään olet kertonut ja etenkin siitä miten paljon olet kertonut. Minä en häpeä enkä halua sinunkaan häpeävän. Sinä olet uskomaton eikä sitä pitäisi joutua peittelemään – etkä kyllä sellaiseen taipuisikaan. Olen kiitollinen siitä, että ehkä olen oppinut rahtusen sinun haistapaska-asennettasi ja olen ehkä asteen vahvempi ihminen. Kaiken tämän lisäksi arvostan sitä ettet ole kovettanut itseäsi liikaa. Sinussakin on pehmeä puoli ja vaikka näytät sen välillä vähän kummallisin tavoin, tiedän sen olevan siellä.

En tiedä mitä tekisin ilman sinua. Onneksi minun ei tarvitse.

(kirjoitettu 2011)

Getting out of the bedroom  

Getting out of the room was always difficult, but never as difficult as that morning. The walls, oh how she hated the walls. They were screaming at her for being such a coward and a pathetic little wimp. They had no idea how she felt so how could they do that to her? Such a mean thing to do to someone like her.

It took ages for her to even open her eyes to see the light that could be the morning sun entering her dark, private place. Then she had to struggle to gather the strength to even pull the blanket off her face. It felt exhausting. It had been a long time since she slept with someone because of this little problem of hers. It was too hard trying to explain it to someone who didn’t even want to get it. So she slept alone and woke up alone. At all times.

When the blanket was dealt with, she had to convince herself to get up. Just get up, it sounds so simple to everyone else but to her it was one of the hardest things she knew. So she struggled to sit up and then forced her feet on the cold floor. She was nearly crying at that point but she had to keep on going. She almost wanted to give up and stay in bed all day but that morning she knew she couldn’t. The harder it was to get up, the more crucial it was to fight back and leave the room. So now that it was the hardest morning she could remember in a long time, there was no choice.

When she finally got her feet on the floor it got a tiny bit easier. The bed started to lose its warmth so it didn’t lure her quite as much. She stood up and started to feel like a winner even though the walls kept on screaming at her. They didn’t sound so cruel anymore to be honest and she didn’t quite remember how cruel they could be. She took the first step towards the door. She knew she rushed it the second she lifted her foot and an overwhelming wave of negative energy washed over her. She was out of breath and wanted to crawl back to bed. She stood still for a moment that felt like forever and tried not to give up. And she didn’t.

It started to feel safe again so she opened her eyes and decided that was it. She took small, determined steps towards the door and screamed back at the walls in her head. When she finally reached the door she was drained. She grabbed the doorknob and opened the door – she had won.

Outside the room everything was normal. It was already a late afternoon but no screaming walls or luring beds or rushes of negative energies. She seemed like anyone else and no one ever noticed her making eggs and bacon at strange hours. No one knew what she went through every single morning.

In my head

You are in my head, in my imagination. You are in my dreams when I’m asleep and when I’m not. You don’t feel real. I know you are but sometimes I’m not so sure after all. Sometimes I think I’ve imagined everything. Or maybe you are real but everything else is not and everything we are is not. Maybe I overthink things and take things too seriously. Or maybe everything is what I think it is and you are you and we have what we have (and how the hell is that going to work). I’m not sure which option scares me the most (all of them). And now, writing all this it hit me that you’re currently not talking to me (not the first time though). I don’t even know where you are and are you ok (probably you just have an actual life). Where have you gone? I hate it that I miss you and I’m not actually allowed to miss you and you probably have no idea that I do – no way I’m telling you (I just might, actually) and how could I when I have no idea where you are or are you mad at me which would suck major ass since I’ve done nothing (shit, I might have done something after all).

So yeah I fucking miss you and have all these goddamn cute as fuck dreams about you and you just keep on going without having the slightest clue about all this (not so sure about this one either anymore) and you just joke about these kinds of things and I don’t even dare to think what you think about me (holy shit). And now look what you’ve done, you just ruined my attempt to write something proper for a change. I tried to create something pretty and you turned it into a shitload of whining and obsessing and made me look ridiculous (which I am). So would you just kindly please come back so I can go on doing what I’ve been doing and not be distracted by the fact that you’re somewhere with someone and I don’t know anything and you don’t even care to tell me or well you could be just really busy and think about me all the time and feel really bad for not telling me anything..Well that turned out perfect didn’t it (HA)? You did it again, do you really think it is fair to keep penetrating my mind like that? I hate you (no I don’t). And now you got the penetrating thing into my head, WHY are you doing this to me (please don’t stop) over and over and over again?

I’m asking you, please come back. Wherever you’ve been, whatever you’ve done, whoever you’ve been with, I really don’t care. I cannot function when you’re gone so I need you here (want you here). Just come back (why are you not here already) so I can stop listening to my heartbreak-playlist (seriously, how pathetic).

Abysmal space

I loved him in secret, deep in the shadows and he never knew. He was the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. People have asked me what it was about him that got me so hooked and I have failed to answer every single time. When I talk about his beauty it has very little to do with the way he looked, the surface. I did love his cold blue eyes and the way they made me melt and his hair that always looked like he had just woken up and crawled out of bed all sleepy and warm. I always had the urge to just run my fingers through his hair but I never really dared to do so. I could just sit and stare at him for hours, carefully trying to spot every little detail and memorize every hair, line and expression his face had. No, his looks didn’t have much to do with the fact I fell for him from the very beginning. I like tall guys but the fact he was taller than me never really made any difference, let alone the fact he had perfect hands. It was never that shallow. It seems shallow, I know, but it sure as hell was not. He caught my attention right from the start but at first I wasn’t at all sure if I liked him or not. He was something else, he was intriguing in a way no one else ever was and I don’t believe will be in the future either. He seemed a bit arrogant and it annoyed me to pieces but at the same time something kept me near him long enough for me to see he was nothing and everything I thought he was.

Every single day he managed to surprise me with how much we had in common even though no one ever believed it was possible to have anything in common. I could see in their eyes that they never understood, they never thought it was normal, this thing we had. It’s funny how I call it a thing like it’s a casual and meaningless but I really cannot describe it any better, there are no words for what we had and what he was, what he meant to me. Love is only one word and one word can’t even start to paint the picture we two together formed. I did love him, I do love him and I will love him – there is no doubt but saying that tells only half the truth. I never really say it out loud, I’m afraid that people will laugh at me, make it sound stupid and naive and I don’t want anything to ruin the memories I have.

I used to write him all these little notes and letters, tiny hidden messages in so many different places I’m not sure if I remember all of them anymore. It was my way of telling him everything without actually telling anything. I know it was stupid to be so afraid but that’s how it was. I could never be sure if he knew those notes were actually for him. I wished and feared he would find out and what him knowing might cause. I was afraid he would laugh at me, never speak to me again or even loathe me. Cut all connections and disappear from my life and I couldn’t take the chance ‘cause I simply cannot survive without him. It now seems that telling him could have been crucial to things turning out differently. So many times I wallowed in that feeling and ached for him to understand but couldn’t find the courage to just tell. It would be funny if it wasn’t so heartbreakingly sad.

He always had this deep sadness in him that I tried to fight but I guess that kind of sadness is not possible for someone else to fight. He was this dark, gloomy character in my life that – however strange it may sound – made me feel almost unbearable joy at times. He thought he was beyond love and it brought me to tears, not being able to tell him that I knew for a fact he was wrong. All I could do is try to convince him he was not that bad a person and that he would find happiness sooner or later and that sooner was the more probable option. I couldn’t come to understand how someone so perfect could think so little of himself but if only had I said it out loud. There were times when I couldn’t understand how he didn’t see how I felt, but I just let it be and enjoyed the time we spent together.

It was a cold October morning and right that moment the world seemed perfect to me. I was waiting for the train way too early as usual. Only one other person had been too excited about the forthcoming travel to sleep, a man in a grey trench coat was sitting at the other end of the bench. He was smoking and I took a deep breath as I nervously went through old text messages and tried to calm my mind. My hands were
shaking and I had to concentrate on breathing so I wouldn’t fall into complete darkness and panic. It was chilly and slightly foggy but the sun was shining, a perfect autumn morning. The trees around the station had all the colours from green to bright orange and leaves were slowly falling down. I was glad I was there that early; I wouldn’t have noticed all the beauty around me if the platform was crowded with people rushing to catch the train. Soon it happened and I noticed the platform started to fill up with frown faced people and my dreamlike mood went away like a bubble burst. I could feel the anxiety rise from somewhere deep but somehow managed to keep myself calm. I kept telling myself it would all be worth it in the end.

The train finally arrived and I grabbed my bag, took a deep breath and stepped in. I couldn’t remember the last time I travelled by train and it looked nothing like the trains back when I used to travel a lot. But the feeling was exactly the same. The slight rush when trying to find your seat as fast as possible with all the other passengers doing the exact same thing, trying to focus on breathing and keeping your belongings safe. The fabric of the seats, the ugly patterns and uncomfortable little pillows that never are where they should be, the smell of the train that is impossible to describe and figure out all the elements that create it – all this was exactly the same even if the train itself was all shiny and new.

I found my seat and was more than happy to see the seat next to me wasn’t taken – not yet at least. I didn’t want to let my bag out of sight so I kept it near even though it meant I couldn’t really move my legs. I tried to keep myself calm but it was getting harder and harder with each passing minute. I was sure he would chicken out and abandon me, that he’d change his mind once I really was there. I was sure I wasn’t anything he thought I was, that he’d be disappointed. Maybe he’d be nice and maybe we’d have a nice time but it wouldn’t be perfect. At the same time I was sure he would be perfect just as I already knew, I was sure – no, I wasn’t sure at all but I wanted to be – that everything would be perfect and all the pieces would fall into place.

All these thoughts made me lose track of time and I soon noticed I was reaching my destination in no time. It was a scary thought but there really was nothing I could do about it anymore. I knew when I left that the trip itself wouldn’t take long but could change and actually did change everything. I almost wished the trip was longer, so I had the time to figure out what it was that I was feeling at that moment. I still can’t really tell what it was. All the explanation I have come up with is him. It was him I was feeling regardless of the distance between us.
The train stopped and so did my heart. With shaky legs I stumbled out and it felt like landing on another planet. As I raised my eyes from the ground that seemed like the only friend I had, he was there. He really was there and there was no point in telling my heart to be still, to be calm. It beat like never before and I was scared it would pop out and flee the bloody scene. He came to me and the moment his hand touched mine I knew it – that’s where I was meant to be.

I don’t think he had a clue about all that was going on in my head. I’ve learned to hide my true emotions quite well over the years. At times I let my guard down and let some of the unbearable joy show but his insecurities didn’t let him see what was right there and my insecurities didn’t let me show him. The time I spent with him was something I cannot quite explain. Nothing really happened and if someone else was there to see they’d describe it as two boring, ordinary people hanging out. That’s not how it was – he was everything but ordinary and I’m everything but ordinary, so how could the “us” formed by us two be ordinary? I said it, nothing really happened but still everything happened. Little pieces in my mind that had been lingering for years found their place and I felt whole however stupid it sounds.

I guess I’ve never laughed so hard I did with him and I’ve never before talked so much about everything possible and impossible. He was finishing my sentences and I knew from a couple words what he was going to say and what he meant even when he didn’t know how to express all those complicated feelings. I just
knew and he just knew, it was like we were one breathing, living being divided into two. That being said it was strange he didn’t know the one thing that maybe could have made a difference, that one feeling that actually never was just one feeling. The truth about me and the truth about him and us and the world, a simple piece of information he failed to notice despite the fact it had been staring him in the eye for countless hours.
The truth was and the truth is and it always will be that I would give anything and everything for him, I sacrificed my life as it was for him and I would do it again a thousand times and more. If I knew then what I know now I would’ve sacrificed a lot more, if I could go back I wouldn’t let anything stand in my way. I would fight and I would go to extremities and maybe, just maybe have some affect. Maybe the outcome would have been exactly the same, maybe there really was nothing I could do like everyone kept and still keeps telling me. But I would have fought nonetheless.

The trip back home was cold and grey and apathetic. The platform felt wrong, the train felt wrong, leaving him behind felt wrong. And it was wrong. I sat in the train hoping it’d never get to its destination, that I didn’t have to return to my life knowing he was far away and alone. Everything was empty, I was empty. Somehow I managed to get myself back home and even continue to live my life as normal as possible. Life felt as a struggle from that on, knowing he had his demons and I wasn’t there to keep him safe and tell him everything was going to be alright.
He got his share of the cruelty of this world, he had more demons than most people can even imagine or cope with. He was strong, I know it, but even the strongest will break at some point. That I didn’t see coming, that I was too naive to admit. So I guess telling him everything’s going to be alright would’ve been a big, fat lie after all. Knowing that doesn’t make me feel a tiny bit better about what happened, how could it. Nothing can fix what is done and nothing can fix me.

I used to wonder if one can die of a broken heart but I never really wanted to know the answer. I never wanted to know how it feels to lose someone, I never wanted to know pain like that was possible. Why didn’t I see it, why didn’t he tell? Why didn’t I tell him all these things I now tell to someone who doesn’t need to know like he needed? Would it have made a difference, could I have changed everything or was all this bound to happen? Did I matter at all, did he even think twice? Did it cross his mind that I was here all that time? All these questions that whirl around my head don’t really matter anymore. He’s left me with this abysmal space full of cold nothingness.

And I simply cannot survive without him.