So are you ready to talk about it yet?
I don’t know where to begin.
That’s not true. Start with the day we met.
But that’s not the beginning.
No, but it’s got to start somewhere, doesn’t it?
I guess you are right.
I honestly don’t know when it really began. Before I decided to go away or right after I went back. It’s not like I haven’t had enough time to figure it out. The truth is I didn’t want to go back to the point where it all started. Because that would mean it had to have an end as well. And I guess with some things you just don’t want an end. Even if right now they are nothing more than painful memories. Once they had been so much more.
Okay come on – get to the point and stop philosophizing about starts and ends and stuff. You know that won’t get you anywhere.
But it feels important to dwell on those memories.
No it doesn’t. You just want to dwell because you are afraid to tell the story.
Fuck you.
That means I’m right, doesn’t it?
Fuck off.
So – tell it.
Alright, alright, here we go:
So this story starts with a dream. A dream about living somewhere else and ultimately – being someone else. Of course that does never quite work out, but if you are young and foolish you think that just believing in something hard enough will make the wish come true. Even if it that is a completely ridiculous thing to think. Dreams are hardly ever logical.
My story begins in Stockholm. Sweden has been my obsession, my dream and everything else for as long as I can remember. It has always been the country I wanted to live in one day. Even though I always knew I’d never ever fit in there. I mean: Have you SEEN Swedish people? It is ridiculous how fucking beautiful most of them are.
But then again, Sweden was the first place that ever felt a bit like home. At least it did the first time. After that I started doubting again.
So when I came to Stockholm for the first time I met someone that changed everything about every part of me. The way I saw the world, myself and most of all: The plan I had for the rest of my life. Not that I’ve ever had any real plan to begin with – but afterwards I had a pretty good idea.
Why can’t you write it was love at first sight?
Well, because it wouldn’t be true.
So you did not feel a connection right away.
I did, but that’s not love at first sight. First of all because it was ridiculous to even think someone like you might be interested in someone like me and secondly, because it never was about love. Not for a very long time.
But I changed your life didn’t I?
Yes, you did. From the very first second we met.
What was it I did?
Nothing really, you just smiled at me and I knew that there’d be more.
How did you know?
Because you were the character come to life I’d been searching for all along. You were the answer to all the unfinished ideas in my head.
Did you tell me that?
No. Why would I tell someone something THAT crazy?
I don’t know. But you avoided the story again.
Because you interrupted me!
You do realize that you did that yourself?
Oh shut up, will you?
So it seems I’m still unable to tell the story of how I met you. How you changed everything. How I ultimately couldn’t stand it and ran away. How you did not follow me. And how I began to carry a stupid joke nobody ever understands in my head. How I never told anyone why it’s such a ridicolous senctence anyway. And why it still haunts me everytime I think of it.
It has been such a long time and still there is no way to talk about it. At least not the real story – maybe I’ll have more luck with the fictional one. So I guess I’ll be trying that from now on. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.
You know, you could always try, with the nonfictional one. The very real one that you can’t stop thinking about right now.
You mean the one that’s either ignoring me, doesn’t seem to get any hint and that probably has a girlfriend anyway?
Well, if you don’t ask you’ll never know.
Yeah okay. Whatever.
I’m just pointing out the obvious.
Yeah, I know. And you are right of course.
So, what will you do?
Ask Gustaf why he’s not called Garfield and Victor if he wants to marry me. 🙂
Changing the subject, I see.
When there’s nothing left one can always stick to sarcasm. And it’s his damn name anyway. So at least I’m able to finally write that one down. Now I’ll try the fucking story.
That’s all you going to try?
No. Maybe. I’m not sure.
You know what they say about regrets?
Yeah I do.
So stop hunting the damn goose already.
I’ll try to try. That is all I can promise.
Well, it’s a start.
“What would you attempt to do if you knew that you could not fail?”
(Robert Schuller)