24th of March 2016
It’s dark. Amy’s going back to black. And I go back to us. I’m sitting in my armchair. My favourite place in the house. I’m smoking the emotional cigarette. The one that must accompany any intense feeling.
The bittersweet. Thinking of Domnișoara Hozmache of last night. Wanting more.
The bittersweet. Feeling happy for realising that the anger towards Romania was just a phase. Feeling happy for being a Romanian. Feeling happy to be here. While happy with my life there as well.
The bittersweet. Seeing the ones I miss. Feeling blessed for all the love I get from them. While being heartbroken to see their white hairs. Feeling pain for seeing them getting old and sick. Feeling guilty for not being here for them when they need me the most. Feeling satisfied that I made them proud. Losing my smile for the ones that are not here anymore. Missing them. Hurting for having to visit them at the cemetery.
The bittersweet. Driving. Enjoying my favourite activity in the world that doesn’t include a person. And being sad for having lost this drive in Denmark. Being everything I’m not there. Being someone I can’t be in there.
The bittersweet. Seeing my watch from when I was 10. Trying it on. Realising I grew up. Missing the house I grew up in.
Listening to Romeo. Iris coming by right in time for Por un Segundo. Knowing we’re going for a drive again. Doing what we do best.