He looked at me with a resigned look and told me; the day I leave California you will be among my darkest. I will never ever forget you.
No, I must not fear. Fear is the little death. He empties me again. But I don’t let him see my fear. I turn and see the path. He is gone. I told myself I pass this fear too. I will pass it. I return and he is gone. I remember his voice when he told me two months ago “you are a sad person.You have a heavy and weary heart. I fully understand that it is easier to write about longing and sorrow than to muster the courage to seek happiness. You also seem to have much more restraint with your feeling than I do. I don’t even know how you really feel about me. I do really love you woman!"
He really loves me? He really doesn't know how I feel about him? I asked myself. when I came inside I felt empty, cold and lonely. I checked my old messages that he sent to me. He quotes Charles Bukowski one day “find what you love and let it kill you."
This is part of my story that published in Baran Magazine in Sweden, Issue 38-39.