It’s 1:30am. You texted me at 5:30am today and told me to wake you up at 9:00am if I were awake.
I woke up at 7:30am, my body aching and the thought of you burned my brain to the core. I made coffee, put on lipstick and, still wearing my pajama, I wore my raincoat and drove to your place.
You woke up the very moment you saw me, which was a first -you’re usually the worst to wake up. I would put on the most annoying song on blast, sing vivaciously, sit on you, shake you and pull your hair out, and you wouldn’t wake up. You eventually do, wake up, look up at the sky and say to God: “what have I ever done to deserve this?”
Today, you woke up right away, and I left you my coffee to drink, and we looked outside the window and we saw a plane flying and you said, in your usual boyish attitude: “look! That’s my plane tomorrow.”
The worst part of all this is that you are happy. You are happy to leave, as you should, but it’s so hard to be happy for you when you’re taking away all I could ever possibly offer. How could I be happy for you when I’m this selfish? You’re asking me to be happy for you when all I really want is to have your arms around me and have the time freeze then and stay stuck in that moment for all eternity. And you expect me to tolerate the idea of you leaving?
A week ago we were also looking at the sky; the sun was setting and the clouds were all pink and fluffy, you looked at the sky and then at me and said: “where will I ever find someone like you?” And I told you with my most serious tone: “don’t even think of searching.“
Here were are, hours away from you leaving. I couldn’t see you tonight, I was with my sisters and you were out drinking with her, behemoth wicked witch of the west. It’s 1:25am, I am seeing you in 5 hours, and I need to sleep, but I know waking up is going to be so painful.