Loving Out Loud

Alone Together

Coming back to the apartment was never easy when you've just said goodbye. Those goodbyes float all around you, and every step is a step further from the person who just left. It was a rainy day in London. Even though I loved London, sometimes it felt probably too grey and lonesome. And those rainy steps I've been taking for the last hour became some kind of music to the pain blossom in my chest. Light raindrops collided with the tears running from my heart. But, I was not crying. That would be immature.

Coming back to the apartment meant coming back to loneliness. Sometimes, loneliness is the best. Sometimes it's enough. That very day, rain and quietness were almost everything I needed. Turning off my phone, I went to the laptop and turned up a playlist. Luckily, only work I had to do that day was finished even before Tom flew. That reminded me - he will call when he gets to the Prague. But, somehow, I couldn't care less. Putting my hair in a ponytail, I went to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of red wine.

Coming back to the apartment meant wine and blues. Elly has provided wine, and Chet Baker was providing the blues. My hips slowly swayed in the rhythm of 'Round midnight, while my eyes fluttered shut. I loved every part of myself in that very moment. Taking a sip of wine, I brushed my lips over the glass. It felt so good to be alone. It felt so good to have some time for myself. I felt pretty, and... Wholesome. After all these years, loneliness felt great.

What a lie... Tears started to roll down my cheeks, warm and salty as they fastly approached my lips. The hole inside my chest became deeper, and darker. My body twitched, and my knees became weak, as I sobbed like a child. Music was my biggest friend, and my greatest enemy. And blues was the worst.

Those tears became waterfalls. I've felt like Alice, too big girl trapped inside a little room. I was trembling, I wanted to scream. That sadness needed to be let out from my body, and a scream would help. But I couldn't scream. My voice betrayed me, like earlier that day. Those high notes were unreachable, and my soul stopped in my throat. A gulp reminded me I'm still alive, because all of that felt like drowning.

In moments like that, we see how alone we truly are. I needed someone to be by my side that night. Not just someone. I needed Matthew. Yes, Matthew. He was the only important man in my life, no matter how much we couldn't work out together.

The memories started to flood my brain. Those happy moments, when we just laid on the bed, and laughed, because he said something stupid, or because I couldn't explain what I was trying to explain. Or when we have  watched Captain America: The First Avenger, on his phone, tangled in sheets and blankets, because the power was out. Or those, probably the happiest moments, when we were drinking wine and listening to jazz music. Why those were the happiest moments, you may ask? Simply because he hates both, wine and jazz, but he did that because of me.

I hated every part of my body. I hated everything about my personality. Most of all, I hated jazz, and wine, because that became "our" thing. He took me from myself.

Coming back to this awful apartment alone, meant coming back to memories. The worst kind of memories. And what's worse than bad memories? You're right - the happiest ones.