Friday, December 5, 2008

Priestess.

I was hanging out with Leich and Lan in Leichin's room last night. Everyone fell asleep. I woke up in the middle of the night and spent I don't know how much time just lying there listening to them breathe. Staring out the window I saw a strange, black orb float up from an old school bus to the roof of the building next to it, where it popped and disappeared. Dream and reality blended as I drifted in and out of consciousness. It was very peaceful and I was strangely happy where I was, uncomfortably stuck between the wall and a sleeping canadian. The only sound was the ticking of the alarm clock. Normally I hate that sound, ticking reminds me of time running out, but last night it felt homely. I felt at home. In that room, with the loud, obnoxious assholish men in my life next to me, I was at home. Love means placing your happiness in the happiness of others. I love the canindians, they carry my heart in theirs.

Ten days from now I'm going back to Sweden. I don't know when I'll be back here. I'm going to be lonely, depressed and in despair. I'm going to doubt my abilities to deal with anything and my chances of ever coming back. I'm going to doubt their abilities to remember me and what we used to have. I'm going to loathe life intensly.

When I do I want to remember the sound of them breathing last night. I want to remember endless walks by the canal in the dark. I want to remember snow inside my t-shirt, pizza on a bench in Verdun, carefully picking three PS2-games for a week at Gamezone and watching anime with Leichin. I want to remember when Lan flooded my bag with orange juice at Three Amigos. I want to remember lying on the grass drinking Sapporo on a hill in july. I want to remember long bikerides in the rain. I want to remember the libanese place in Atwater that always gives me mysterious headaches. I want to remember Likla and her unique taste in books, James going frontiers of science, and Shanti and her hilarious stories about how she constantly fucks up at work. I want to remember the food and the smell of incense. Most of all I want to remember their voices, their eyes, the inside jokes and all the laughs.

I want to remember that maybe, just maybe, there is a place for me too on this stupid planet.

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