Look at me.
Look at you.
It is a cold evening. Gray evening. The leaves on the ground remind me of a time long gone. The wind moves me to tears.
I am on my way back home from work and the bus is crowded. A child crying,
an old woman complaining about something I didn't get and me sitting with my cheek against the window. I have this look again...
Some people do the same, I have noticed. And I just wonder where their
thoughts are. I think of you. I think of her. I think of us.
I close my eyes and try to hold back the tears. The city looks different since that day. The streets, all the places we were going to visit together. The ungiven kisses. I just whisper "why"...
You should see this place..how amazing this culture is and the people inspite of what the rest of America says about us (and the rest of the world). There is something..hard to explain, a "je ne sais quoi" but I can clearly notice the difference from other cultures.
I love the way you are. I simply love the way you treated me, all the respect and kindness that I don't know if it was something very yours or if it's the way americans are in general. Thinking of this brings a smile on my face.
I look for you..I look for someone with a similar feature, with the same eyes or smile but it's so impossible to find someone like you. I am so desperate that I need to create you somehow.
I try to imagine your voice, the way you pronounce my name, your cute accent when you say te amo. I am so sad..so sad.
He called me from Jordan the other day and I was so surprised although I am not interested in him. But he called me and I thought I would have called you...it would have been weird and scary too because of my English, but I would have done it. To hear your voice is a dream come true. Now that I think of it I realize it would have been the first time that I said I love you to someone and felt it in my heart, body and soul.
But you never wanted to. And I just don't understand why.
Yes, now I shed a few tears and some people look at me as if they have never seen someone crying before. I don't care.
Sometimes I am thinking about other things, shallow things and a thought
suddenly comes to my mind, something about you but something erotic and
I just bite my lower lip and think "how silly you are, Ju". (I'd love to place my hand there and feel the heat...remember?) That thought usually makes me dizzy.
I thought about one of your letters yesterday. One where you described your daily routine. I read it again when I got home after work and I enjoyed it as if it was the first time I was reading it. I have pictured myself as a part of your daily routine so many times. I wanted to be part of your life. I wanted to be by your side at any and all costs.
(I don't know why I am doing this, this is absolutely useless and depressing).
I just hope you never feel this way. (I am almost sure you don't)
Well, it's been another day..routine for me as well. (Boring).
And tomorrow it will be the same probably.
The bus, the wind, my tears, people staring at me, my thoughts of you, my erotic thoughts of you, the absurd idea that you might be thinking of me as well (at least once in awhile), my memories, my way back home..and you. Always you.
June 22
