Twenty-Three.
A few days later, I think it was a Thursday night; there was a postcard on the counter. I turned it over to find it was addressed to me, and blank space at the back seemed large with a mere two sentences scribbled across it.
"I know how much you love cities at night, so here's something to make you smile. I'll be back soon, I promise."
I turned the postcard around again. It was a picture of a city, a huge one, all lit up. The lights were so colourful and the city so vast; the night sky was so black and the stars were so bright- it had me dazed in an instant. The full moon seemed somewhat over-proportionally large in the top right hand corner. Portugal, I assumed.
For the first time since I got here last week, I crossed the room to lean against the big window. I loved how it extended all the way to the floor, and was just as impressively wide. It was like sitting on the building's ledge, overlooking the city. I loved this window. I'd loved it from the minute I walked in, and when I sat here at night, I wanted time to stop. I never wanted to leave. But I hadn't dared to sit here, because this was a place I shared with you. It felt wrong to be here without you. That night was different tho. Your postcard in my lap, I stared into the night sky. I watched the headlights on the cars go by, the flashing lights of the clubs and bars, and the slowly diminishing number of lights in the windows of the odd tall office building here and there.
I thought of the people inside them. They'd be finishing a hard day's work, and remain mostly unrewarded for the extra time. But then I watched their step would pick up as they stepped outside, and the taste of the crisp air would put a smile on their face, as they realise they get to go home to someone they loved. A family, kids maybe. A significant other, or a friend.
I got home to an empty apartment - an empty apartment that wasn't even mine to call home.
&&&.
When I was a kid, I had everything mapped out. I had plans. Life seemed simple, and I held an honest belief that things would just fall into place, eventually. Life's cruelties consisted of not being allowed ice cream for dinner, or not getting to the see-saw quick enough at break time. Heart-break was when your friend moved to another city or another school. Of course, two weeks later, you were over it entirely, and they never crossed your mind again.
You were courageous when you talked to the boy everyone liked. You were a chicken when you didn't jump off the swings before they stopped. Fear was going down the big hill on your bike. Longing was when you couldn't sleep the night before your birthday.
Then you grew up, and there was this thing called "life". And everything was so much harder, so much more complicated, and so much crueller than you could have imagined as a kid. Then again, you loved so much more than you ever thought you could, you experienced a form of happiness stronger than you ever thought was possible, and the world was so full of opportunities you never knew you could have. But, to be honest, sometimes I really wondered whether it was worth it.
I missed being a kid. I missed talking to Mum about all the things I wanted to do when I grew up. I missed her patiently listening, smiling at my endless wishes and perfect schemes, and telling me it'd all work out. I missed us agreeing on how great my life was going to be. I missed how I couldn't wait to grow up, and looking forward to all those things I was going to do.
It sort of saddened me to realise how little of those things I was actually doing now. I suppose there comes a time where you just have to let go of some dreams- or in my case, a lot of them. They say you can have anything you want in life, if you want it enough. But I don't believe that, because some things are just never going to happen. Or maybe I've just never wanted anything enough.
