And it’s over. I’m supposed to celebrate, right? Where’s the whole breathe in, breathe out magic? I’m supposed to have that kind of free, wanderlust feeling. It’s over. The eight months of stupidity has finally reached its end and I only wait to serve time for the sin that I have committed.
But what’s left? What else is to happen after?
I wasn’t at my best, I could admit that. When I entered that room, all of these feelings came through. I was suddenly claustrophobic, I started babbling, and I was suffering under pressure. I’ll keep this entry short because I don’t want to go through the blood, sweat, and tears of the whole day but at the end of it, you were there to listen.
You don’t know, but I wish you knew. My heart was beating loudly for you, couldn’t you hear? You smiled at me with your comforting, warm smile and you told me everything was going to be okay. You spoke to me softly, a contrast from the disappointed looks of the ones who questioned and barred me with all the irrelevance in the world. You looked at me with care, with fervor, and with wonder. Why couldn’t you have just approached me sooner? I was right there and then, holding myself when the world was moving at its given pace. You looked at me with concern in your eyes but I saw the look on your face. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it.
But why couldn’t you? Tears were pouring down my face. I was crying. Silently, but moving still. What could you have done differently?