And that I succeeded for quite a while, is perhaps, what disappoints me the most.
Last night I dreamt that I was locked in a huge, rambling, rather scary-looking house.
You were waiting for me on the terrace, and I was getting late.
The only problem was that I couldn't find a way up.
For hours and hours on into my dream, I cringed in my sleep, quietly calling out to you; but for hours and hours, I found myself standing yet again infront of another closed door.
I woke up without ever having heard your voice.
The day that followed was a dull one.
Every event took place in a maddening, perfect sequence.
Bad food. Ass jutting out of fridge.
Physics tuition. Parents squawking.
Procrastination. Phone calls.
And then somewhere in the middle of it all;
A shard of ice seemed to pierce my heart - but in place of the usual onslaught of memories, a realization of truth dawned.
You're not waiting for me up on that terrace. I've been calling out to no-one.
Grinning with a lost air at empty walls. You're gone.
There might've been a million rational reasons for why.
Too soon, I didn't see it coming. And then it happened. And now it's over.
