It just occurred to me the there may be someone else like me who looks up at the Sun on Fridays. And perhaps that's the reason why it's so easy to leave me broken when all I needed was some strange message on my phone or a wave of a hand when I got back. It's not easy to care about strangers especially when you're with someone who isn't strange to you at all.
But I'm not a bad person. I may be intimidating in more ways that one but I know that I'm a decent guy. I'm loud but I try my best not to be rude. And I can't find any reason why any one would want to be rude to me as well. So, I suppose this is the most logical answer to a question that burns in my mind: there is somebody out there.
It would have been so easy just to say that, if it were true. But I'll still assume that it is because any other hypothesis that I can muster leads to bad places— and I don't want to think bad things about any one, especially her.
Given that, what should I do?
It's not an easy question to answer.
See, this isn't your typical thing where one is attracted to someone new, and simply wants to go out and get to know the other person, and see where it goes. I never wanted this. I was in a dark place at a dark time. I have always been comfortable being in the dark and acting strangely.
But there was this one night, on December 14th last year, that my feet brought me back to the office to see someone whom I've seen before— every day— but I seem to have never seen before. I don't know. It just happened and I wrote and I wrote and I made music and I drew. And for the first time in a long, long time, I feared the darkness that I have made my home.
I will say that I had not been attracted to her then because I'm afraid to say that I had been wrong. But since I have been forced to reflect on how I had been wrong towards people and how other people had been wrong towards me, I guess it's just right that I just say this now. That night, I forgot all about the darkness that hung over me for years and years that I had learned to love it. And I allowed myself to dream dreams that I had not allowed myself to dream because those dreams are not for one that lived in the dark. I was wrong, perhaps. I am sorry anyway.
But given that, what should I do?
It's really not an easy question to answer.
This isn't typical. When I was at hospital recently, delirious and fighting for my life, my mother heard me call a name. A name that she hadn't heard me say before. And when I finally wanted to just not fight any more, after remembering what I had been told people known and unknown to me felt about me, I saw that face, that ray of sunshine, that has been keeping me from my darkness. And I realised that I wanted life more than anything. I wanted to come back and to see her again, for real, every day. Even on Thursdays.
I never wanted this.
So, I will say that if it can be confirmed that I am correct in my assumption, I might as well leave this place. I almost did last Tuesday, for different reasons— none of them good (but that's another story that may not be worth repeating). But I will this time, without regrets, if it is the last good thing that I can do for that person.
She would never want this anyway, I think.
I have to admit that it will be difficult. Not to go but to find a life away from the darkness once I have left. But I cannot stop doing what I do, dreaming what I dream, and wanting what I want— while I am here, seeing what I see even if some times, it does hurt to just see and only see.
While I'm here, I cannot stop being afraid of the darkness. I cannot stop loving life.
But if I am told to go, I will go.