i never told you this, but, i called you 12 times on the plane before it took off, because there was a 2 hour delay, and the last thing i wanted to hear in that godforsaken town was your crying voice, shaking, telling me that i left my keys in your car and how fucking stupid and clumsy i had always been, or something more nonchalant like your forearm smelled like my shampoo, because i had just finished showering when you arrived and i curled inside your arms for the last time in my room and took pictures because everything felt so casual as if i would still see you next week, because i would always still see you next week. i turned my phone off because i was angry i was angry because you didn’t pick up and fuck you because i called you 12 times and you didn’t pick up. i saw faces and i was starting to shake and mum was sitting beside me when i started to cry my eyes out she was there but nothing was she did because, like you, she didn’t know how to react, but you would have held me and i would have probably cried even heavier and i thought you’d fucking be there on the bad days because you said you loved me and i believed you because i thought you meant it, because you vowed to stay with me until i fell asleep. i glanced at the trees outside. i could not stop wondering where you were. i could not contain the urge to call you. i finally turned my phone back on, hopeful to see your name on the screen. hopeful that you would fucking care. i called you once more, once more i called you but you were not present on the other side to placate my angry calls. i wondered what you were doing. i wished you were dead. i didn’t want the plane to take off without you. i hated the thought of moving to a place where the sky is always grey. i was scared. i was scared that the void i left would be replaceable. fuck, i was willing to drop everything. for you. and i never told you that. i looked at the closed curtain that separated us from the first class passengers. i begged god to see your stupid face, to see your hand reaching out to me, handing me my keys, and screaming to All My Heart with the other coach passengers but you didn’t do what we have planned last night, and it hurt. i neglected the existence of my dear ipod since songs would make me want to self-destruct even more. i was silent, momentarily. i thought about last night and how i should have stayed awake but my nose decided to release a stream of thick red fluid and why the fuck did we decide to sleep early?! we should have stayed awake, god, if i knew this stupid thing would happen, god i would have taped my eyelids over to my forehead because i would do anything to relive 28th december, and because what a waste of fine wine! but the plane took off eventually, and i was hopeful for what the future might bring. it was you and me, against rivers and seas and oceans and roads and cars and trains and planes, planes that bring me back to you. but in that moment, everything felt doable. as if distance would not matter. as if i would still see you next week. and now. up to this day, we have survived 197 days without each other, and it all comes back to that one evening in the plane full of people with Bromhidrosis: me wishing for you. i would trade our 197 days for that one december night, because, god, what a waste of fine wine.
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