This past half year I’ve probably spent a bit more time at the movies than my monthly income seems to suggest that I should. But there’s just something about letting yourself disappear in that darkness, not knowing who’s sharing this experience with you – only knowing that somebody is.
I don’t know what to do with you. As the situation seems more and more unrealistic, I fall deeper and deeper. And it’s all I can do to contain myself. I already spend half my days thinking about you, and I let my mind wander when we sit next to each other watching a movie – that could be us, that couple right there: we could be them. And there’s something in the way you look at me that tells me you think about the same things. But you’re still guarded. You’re still unattainable, and it’s rendering me helpless.
I guess it shouldn’t be this difficult if it was going to happen. But at the same time: The best things rarely come easy. And a thousand other inspirational quotes.
Listening to Miley Cyrus and Her Dead Petz again. I had almost forgotten about this gem. Or at least reduced it to only listening to Lighter. But this album is so much more than that. It’s very fitting for nights when you try to figure out your life – listening to Miley trying to figure out hers. I don’t even know why I’m so obsessed with love. I always enjoy the chase more than the catch, so really I should just try to keep myself in this phase for as long as possible. But it seems to defeat the purpose of the chase if I become content with it. I need to strive for something more for the chase to be a chase. Calling it a “chase” seems a bit silly, as if it’s a game, but I don’t know how else to describe it – I need words. That early unrequited-love part of a love affair. Or at least unsecure part of a love affair that might or might not materialise. I just love the uncertainty, and I love flirting. I love finding out what effect I have on people, and what effect they have on me. Humans are such doll creatures ninety-nine percent of the time, but during that last one percent they make you tingle all over, give you goosebumps, make you question if the night sky really is the most complete sight in the world, or if it’s her eyes. During that last one percent, time can come to a halt, and you can end up caught in that moment for a lifetime.
At least that’s what it seems like to me. Whenever I think back to places or events, what I see is not the things themselves, but the people I noticed while there. I remember a thousand set of eyes, but not the color of the bridges. I recall strands of hair flying loose in the air, but not the scent of Berlin. My memories are bound to crushes and fascinations, a few memories are bound to real loves, fewer still are tied to kisses.
I still remember the way I toyed with your hair tie earlier this year, when it was around your arm. How it led to our fingers touching, our hands, our stares. Our breaths. What happened there? What didn’t happen there?
That’s the question I’ve been actively seeking to avoid this year: What didn’t happen there? The more situations I live through without giving that question room to roam, the more gold stars I will award myself at the end of 2016.
It still amazes me that we live in a world where it’s perfectly common to make plans a year or more into the future. We really do believe in our ability to not die, don’t we. And in our ability to keep our lives on track (I try to use less metaphors (from a purely philosophical standpoint), but sometimes it’s just difficult to really get by without them). I’d like to know how people, both individuals and societies, thought 100, 200, 500 years ago, and even further back. How was life led when there was certainly today, probably tomorrow, possibly next month and hopefully next year?
It’s no secret that I wish I lived in a world that was a bit more present. And it’s no secret that I wish I was a bit more present as well. But ‘being present’ is ever evolving, and it’s possible that it’s just up to me to update my definitions. Still, I think there’s something to be said for devoted attention. I suppose that’s what I love the most about the cinema: We’re all there with the same intent, and for ninety minutes we pretend that our lives aren’t controlled by notifications (or the lack thereof).
For ninety minutes we disappear.