i remember seeing her reflection on a train window when we were on subway. and when somebody pulls back hair like she always did makes me shiver. sometimes i wish i was a writer, because when it comes to that thing, you know, when shit happens, it leaves me no other way except this. writing. i write even if i don't know a slightest thing about writing. i just keep writing because it keeps me busy. i hate looking through pictures, because back then i was happy, even if i didn't really realize that. just take a random photo and you see? eyes. they tell that "i'm happy, don't you see it" and i love and simultaneously hate memories. good and bad. sure they can brought a smile on my face, but that grey and thick sadness which is eating me up is always inside of me.
it's been 3 months and 21 days since she left that world and i honestly don't know how to go on living. yes, i have friends and i have "friends" and we hang out and i work, and i still write songs, and i still keep her picture on the back of my wallet and on the back of my mind is always her. i always loose in life. i'm simply a looser. that one who has a chance to get something truly precious in his crappy life and the one who doesn’t appreciate what he has and soon enough he looses it. i fail at life. it’s just they way i am, i guess.
she was so fragile in my arms, so pale and so lifeless. these memories hurt like hell once i recall them. even if i don't really want to look back they keep haunting and fallowing me in every way possible. when i close my eyes i can clearly see her face with every detail. i can say that her hair is a bit of a mess, just like i love it. her eyes are so bright and just endlessly blue. her lips are a pout and you can see a small smile on them. when i open my eyes i feel so totally weird because i know that it couldn't just happen. no, no, no. and then i try to act like a sane person, which is pretty impossible. but here i am. she's dead. gone. passed away forever and that makes things not easier, but it's true. maybe in another life in another lifetime i'll meet her again. but not in this.
it makes me the sickest person in the world, but i want her. i want to kiss those lips and hold her body and just feel her warmness on my skin. i want to simply take her hand. and for just a second of her presence i'd give my life. literally. and these thoughts live in head 24/7. i thank God every day that i've not gone insane. sometimes it feels i'm that close to it.
i feel useless once i hear her songs on a radio. it'll never happen again. us in the studio. never. why didn't she tell me? i can't stop asking myself that question. i know, i know. she didn't want to hurt me. but for God's sake! how can you care about such things like hurting when you're dying? i mean it doesn't change anything, because it will hurt anyway. and it actually does matter if she told me. i don't know, i'd sell my soul to the devil just to keep her alive.
there's just something that never dies. it's something when i put a DVD and hit "play" and see her smiling at me. just at me. and she's laughing and talking to me and for a split second you think that that's it! she's here, full of life. so happy. and a second later reality bites and yells at you and brings you back into your misery. it's a never ending circle and i don't know how to get out of it. i'm grateful that i had that piece of happiness having her in my life, spending time together, sharing things, thoughts, secrets and just loving each other. she made me a better person. but i was still just not good enough for her if she left me.
sure you have heard a million of songs with the lyrics like " i'm on a cold floor crying for you my love" and all that stuff. it's funny that i've done that crying thing probably too many times. and it's actually a good thing that i can say it out loud. am i proud of this? no. am i ashamed of this? no. it's me and i can do what i want to do. i've done shitload of things i never wanted to do, i've pleased too many people and have done too much shit to stay on the top. i actually was in deep deep down. i just didn't want to accept this. i was young and dumb and i loved it. i did bad things, i cheat on someone i thought i love, or i thought that they loved me, just to prove myself how much of an ego badass i was. it seems awfully wrong now. but back then i loved my life. every night a new girl, full fridge of drinks. and fame. everyday tabloids showing the world my face. and i loved it. i thought this is what what life is about. so crying in the middle of the night is something i have rights to do.
maybe i deserve that dreadfully awful life, i deserve to feel all that pain, but her? she was so young and so, so, she so didn't deserve dying that fast, seeing that little of this world. and that little i can do now is not to give up, because it's the easies way to show that you're weak and that you cast nothing in this life.
and with these thoughts i left a part of my life on the desert beach and went back to the apartment and took my guitar to write one more song about...yeah, i just left an envelope with the letter inside on the sand, so the morning waves would catch it and take it with them into that deep blue world of the heartlessly broken waves.
the end.