Lost

Memories

Dear diary,

my friends have found me, sitting on that wall. They wanted to know what was going on but, you know, I couldn't tell them about...well...you.

They've all seen how we changed glances. They asked me heaps of questions; they wanted to know what I felt, whether you actually meant me and whether I knew you already. 

What was I supposed to answer? Was I meant to tell them about your broken soul? Should I have said something like: well I felt absolutely horrible because something in me just exploded and I recognized myself looking for blood because seeing you dark eyes, full of pain, hurts like hell?

I couldn't say that but maybe I should have.

It wasn't the last time I saw you and as you may already know, this was the greatest mistake I could have made – seeing you again, talking to you and kissing you. And one day – without any advance but too many hints – I lost you.

It doesn't matter how I start thinking about anything that has to do with you, I always end up feeling like a piece of shit. A piece of shit that doesn't know how to survive the next day, the next week, the next month.

After telling my friends that I was just feeling a bit sick and that it's better now, they dragged me back to the little festival. I got back to my spot right in front of you and the moment you saw me, your smile got wider and your voice a little brighter...

I didn't look you in the eyes that day because my stomach was still aching.

I heard the happiness in every word that came out of your mouth and I swear to god that if you wouldn't have texted me three hours later, wonder how you even got my freaking phone number, I would have remembered you as the guy whose energy filled my body just by putting that freaking honest smile on your innocent face.