a nap a maga megbocsátást nem tűrő, mindent leleplező fényével tűzött. fehér ruhámban teljesen meztelennek éreztem magam. kiültünk arra a teraszra, a yuppik és üzletemberek közé, elővettem a vogue slims-et, és a napszemüvegem alatt mindent elmondtam a szemeimmel neked, te meg csak ittad a napfényt és terpeszkedtél a széken, és büszkén kimondtad, hogy elhagysz.
- rendben.
- csak ennyit modassz?
- csak ennyit.
koccintottunk is rá egy üveg 100 lejes pezsgővel, hiszen röhögtünk akkor még a pénzen. utána hazaindultam, te viszont velem akartad tölteni ezt az utolsó napot, ezt az elidegenítő, kurva napot. ekkor már zavart téged, hogy nem könyörögtem, hogy nem sírtam, hogy nem váltam azzá a nővé, akit szerettél volna. pedig bálványoztalak, imádtalak, és még most is azt gondolom, hogy nálad tehetségesebb embert nem fogok soha ismerni, és titokban a sors ajándékának tartottalak, és hálás voltam a csókokért és az átszeretkezett napokért. így könyörögtél, sírtál helyettem te, én meg megígértem, könnyes szemekkel, hogy sohasem hagylak el. estig lekaszáltunk minden földi jót, ettünk és ittunk a lehető legdrágább helyeken, mint valami luxusturisták a saját városunkban. a recepciós nő furán nézett ránk, majd fölvezettek a szobánkba. te azt mondtad, ezért szeretsz, mert mindig, mindenki így néz kettőnkre, és nem értik, miért vagyok veled. én sem értettem. azelőtt meg azóta sem volt 7szer egymás után orgazmusom, de fejlődök ezen a téren, s utánad arra jöttem rá, hogy a szex is csak szex, s hogy még az igazi, egymás szemébe nézős, legintimebb pillanatokat megteremtő szeretkezés is csak önmaga, úgyhogy nem keresem már. nem sajnálom már, hogy másnap reggel otthagytalak a taxiban, pedig akkor nehezen vettem rá magam. otthon levetettem a 400 eurós ruhát, amit azóta sem vettem ki a szekrényből. ott hagytad a nyomod rajta, mert a gallérján koromfekete foltok maradtak.
work
I've been putting in immense hours at work in the past months. I don't sleep anymore, not really, I just free up some space on the bed that currently stores my drafts, my ink paper and most of my supplies, on the bed that we never made love or had sex on, on the bed that never really was ours, just mine, and crash on it, burnt out and kind of sorry for myself but still calm, 'cause I worked today'. I didn't know how to love you, I didn't know how to make you trust me, but I always knew work and made myself believe that I could lose anything and anyone as long as I had my work. I tell people the opposite, but you were my greatest love, my best kept secret and my worst nightmare. I was really scared sometimes of what we would become, I was scared to say yes and even more scared to say no.
Since you left I've been having a hard time working, you see, because I've been experiencing a sadness of the deepest kind. The type of sadness no one sees or knows about, because this time it's serious, this time, I can't let anyone see it, not this time. I also feel kind of worthless, which is, I guess, motivation to actually get out of bed and do something to shake the feeling. I'm really scared because I love you so much but you were never enough for me and you gave me everything you had so what if no one will ever be enough? I'd love to tell you all this, to just talk and talk and cry, I don't even want you to hold me or kiss me just listen and tell me I'm immature and stupid and look me in the eye with your now changed look, a look that no longer loves but maybe still cares about me a little. You made me cry and laugh so much and you let me get to know you and took the time to know me and it got to the point where I was sad because an entire lifetime seemed too little time to spend with you and now I can't even look at anyone else, I try, you know, but not really, because each time I just get angry inside because they don't make breakfasts like you used to and don't put their hands on my thighs, just on the right spot, like you used to and I'm so tired of sharing my deepest thoughts and fears and desires with someone and then just decide to fuck off and not call them again.
Since you left I've been having a hard time working, you see, because I've been experiencing a sadness of the deepest kind. The type of sadness no one sees or knows about, because this time it's serious, this time, I can't let anyone see it, not this time. I also feel kind of worthless, which is, I guess, motivation to actually get out of bed and do something to shake the feeling. I'm really scared because I love you so much but you were never enough for me and you gave me everything you had so what if no one will ever be enough? I'd love to tell you all this, to just talk and talk and cry, I don't even want you to hold me or kiss me just listen and tell me I'm immature and stupid and look me in the eye with your now changed look, a look that no longer loves but maybe still cares about me a little. You made me cry and laugh so much and you let me get to know you and took the time to know me and it got to the point where I was sad because an entire lifetime seemed too little time to spend with you and now I can't even look at anyone else, I try, you know, but not really, because each time I just get angry inside because they don't make breakfasts like you used to and don't put their hands on my thighs, just on the right spot, like you used to and I'm so tired of sharing my deepest thoughts and fears and desires with someone and then just decide to fuck off and not call them again.