#191225

That feeling is tied to memories from the first year. To the emptiness in my heart that let itself known every day that I spent alone in the halls, learning my notes and thinking about what I’m even doing here and if I’m not an imposter, trying to make everyone, but most of all myself believe that I’m meant to be here and I’m good enough. To the emptiness that felt like a knife in my heart in every moment when someone around me laughed with their friends, reminding me that only I am alone, left behind, stranded, like always. Reminding me that it’s too late - everyone already has friends at university and no one needs new ones. I’ll never start over. It’s tied to the feelings of disappointment, feelings of failure, which I didn’t know until then. To the feelings that come suddenly and take away all your illusions - take away everything that was making you in high school you. They take away all your feelings of satisfaction and uniqueness when you realize that there’s suddenly tens of people around you that are doing better than you are. And that those people have always existed, you just didn’t know them - but you were never special. That feeling ties to moments in which the people you were trying to grow a friendship that was supposed to last “forever” with, leave. One day, you won’t be living with your classmate anymore, bonding over bad slovak rap, and you’ll realize just how much you miss it every time you see her interact with someone else - because those friendships were seemingly worth fighting for. The one you shared was never enough. It ties to nights in which you can’t sleep. To the dark room 505 that’s silent only when everyone’s asleep, but even this quiet is easily filled by the loudness of your thoughts. It ties to the feeling of emptiness when the laughter ends and you realize it’s only an echo of something that you’re trying to achieve your whole life. It ties to bitter tears that wash away in the shower because you can’t show your emotions in front of your roommates, despite knowing one of them for 8 years. It ties to the nights in which you’re alone in your 3-person dorm room, because X is not just you and your best friend’s town anymore, and you’re not anyone’s priority anymore. It ties to the phone calls home when your heart is racing out of your chest, trying to run back to the place from where your mum’s voice echoes - maybe at least her hands would take it into her hold. Maybe at least there, it would find its place - like when you were little. It ties to your third year and the moment in which you decide to “live your life to the fullest”. To the hangover after a night full of drinking and thoughts of which the strongest one is the worry that you’re changing into your own father. It ties to train rides back home when you’re listening to music that’s supposed to help you forget, but instead reminds you of the moments of the week even more - to that feeling of emptiness in your chest when you realize that you gave your heart to someone who’s not gonna hold it, but will let it fall to the ground so it shatters. And in the meantime, you’re just falling, falling, falling.

It also ties to new beginnings. To the belief that maybe this year will be different. To the childish spark in your eye, to the silence at 4 in the morning when you’re standing in front of your dormitory, waiting until the doorman lets you in after the sins of the night. It ties to the silly belief that Halloween must be cursed - just because you let yourself make very bad decisions every year around the same time. It ties to the same feelings that resurface after 3 years - what if I’m not good enough and what am I even doing here? And what comes after? In a year? Two? When you won’t be here anymore and won’t have anything to fall back on? When you can’t talk your way out of it and say you’re not ready for the world yet? It ties to the boys in clubs that you let question your own worth. To warm hands and passionate kisses that you mistakenly explain as depth. To trauma dumps at midnight at empty playgrounds - which is a little ironic, since you’re both just tall kids pretending you’re someone you’re not. To the thought that you’re growing close with someone, but then you realize you were only used - for your big heart, but because of your own naivety. It ties to disappointment, to a karaoke bar full of empty souls searching for their place, to ringing in your ears behind its walls. It ties to throwing up in bins or behind trees in places that you were maybe never supposed to be in - in places you were maybe never supposed to visit, had you loved yourself a little more. 

But X, I love you anyway. Sometimes, I’m so sure of it. In moments when I laugh with my friends so much that my stomach hurts and my eyes well up with tears. In moments when I walk along dark streets and watch the Christmas lights, realizing that even after everything - after the ghosts that I see flying across the stranded nooks that only me and the people I let see know - it didn’t make me hate you. I’m convinced I love you when I look back, and most of everything, I’d love to go visit those moments again and freeze time - just so my limit with you wasn’t getting so short so fast. I’m sure of it when I meet with my friends in a different place every week - but also in places that we know so well, in places that are ours. I’m sure of it when I smoke in front of the university and feel free - feel that all of this is my doing, that without all the bad, I wouldn’t be here and wouldn’t be able to appreciate everything it cost me. I’m sure of it when I wish for something when I smoke my lucky cigarette and even let the loneliness hug me. I’m not afraid of it anymore. I welcome her the way I am - with empty arms, ready for what it’s gonna teach me this time. I love you when I start calling my painful memories “lore”, when I realize what you gave me more than what you took from me. Because there’s not a lot. You gave me freedom. Self-sufficiency. The ability to live alone, to choose, to spend time with myself, but also with friends. You gave me an experience with love, an experience with my own sexuality. You taught me that it’s important to talk about my feelings. That there’s not a lot of real people out there and I can’t trust everyone. That people will forever come and go, but the ones that are supposed to stay (even with their stubborn, cold support), will stand behind you forever. You taught me how to smile at moments that, at the time, felt like twisting the knife in my gut. You’ve shown me true nostalgia. You’ve taught me that autumn is really the prettiest, and that after every bad day, there’s an amazing sunset - X’s own, strange apology. I grew up in you. I achieved something in you. I learned a lot about myself in you - even though, after everything, I’m still searching for myself. X, we only have 3 semesters left. Be how you need to be - I’ll never hate you for it anyway.