Blame it on summer

Summer to me means a lot of linen, which I love to wear but hate ironing. It also means swimming pools, the smell of sunscreen, colorful flip flops and chatting with girls in one of the sidewalk cafés, enjoying the warm wind’s kisses on our cheeks.

Summer brings an excuse to take random candid photos “just because it’s nice outside” and to stay up late “just to listen to birds chirp at dawn.”

Leaning back leisurely and watching people pass by the coffee house window counts as a viable activity in summer. Sitting inside – be it an office or a home – while the sun is burning holes in the pavement counts as a crime on my heart’s watch.

I blame it on the season when social ties seem to become of utter importance, overshadowing other, more serious (who said?) things in life. I think it is completely the summer’s fault when my heart and mind suddenly decide to walk in opposite directions, pulling me apart persistently, with the heart scoring points toward victory two thirds of the time.

One of these warm summer nights brought a fight between me and you, one of my best friends. I don’t really want to know at this point whether it was our foolish youth running through out veins, a couple of beers or a mere misunderstanding fueled by a thing or two left unsaid. Let’s just blame it on this hot season and the overdose of emotions it throws at us, breaking the weak defense that is out reason.

When I saw you through one of those coffee house windows parking your bike at the curb, I thought it was meant for us to make up today. Why else would summer want us to run into each other like that in a city with abundance of places to go lick our wounds?

I put my pride somewhere deep in the back pocket and I came to you, my hands shaking, trying not to let go of some fair trade sugar I just grabbed. I apologized although I didn’t feel like I deserved your negative attitude. Would you come to my table, I asked, if I didn’t approach you first? No, you said proudly. I felt that you were unfair to me and our friendship and I thought that you, the older one of us two, should have acted more mature. I was angry inside yet I could not afford to lose you. The thought of this summer without you crept into the back of my mind as you were standing in front of me, paying for your coffee. I was scared to death that you’d turn around and walk past me, throwing our friendship away coldheartedly. I pictured bumping into each other awkwardly in little downtown restaurants and trying to share friends most of which we had in common. I saw the boring pool parties without you, that bottle of Sangria I bought to share with you left unopened, tedious shopping trips with other less fashionable friends and not having you on the phone late at night to laugh about our latest girly adventures. I was afraid of not being able to see you across the table from me – like tonight – leaning toward each other to share happenings at work, our sappy memories, grown-up dreams and random things like those few lines from your book on the history of rock.

It would be my last attempt to approach you, I knew, and you must have felt it. Which one is my table, you asked, following me. You accepted my explanation, and deep in my heart I felt that you were sorry too, although you wouldn’t say it. As we walked out onto the sleepy summer street after chatting for hours, you said you wanted to see me tomorrow. You pulled me closer, hugged me and kissed me, and in my mind I answered, “Don’t worry about saying a thing, my friend, because I already know.” I smiled, turned around and felt a touch of that playful warm wind on my face. It felt like summer.

This one's for you

I hung up the phone last night
And thought I should still be mad
At you
But I wasn’t
I searched deep inside for the remains
Of anger and pain
That you caused
But nothing was there
Only the sweetness of your voice
Floating like one of those addictive tunes
In my mind
Please be good to me
For you have the power
To make me weak

Our ways part here

There is no pain equal to that which two lovers can inflict on one another. This should be made clear to all who contemplate such a union. The avoidance of this pain is the beginning of wisdom, for it is strong enough to contaminate the rest of our lives. - Cyril Connolly

I wish I could take a permanent marker and cross the last couple of days out of my life, leaving only the good memories of us. I wish I could take a highlighter and make the two weeks before that stand out, overshadowing the mistakes you made in the end.

You left for good this morning and I think it’s for better, too. My heart is screaming right now, begging for my absolute attention. It tells me that now is the time to be hurting and feeling sorry for myself. I would much rather listen to my mind though, which tells me it is time to grow stronger. I bury myself in work and I put my heart to sleep.

I won’t be mad at you or judge you in any way, although you did cause me a lot of pain the last two nights. I think you have a potential of becoming a good man, but for now your actions still reveal your youth too much. Don’t apologize to me, I knew what I was signing up for from the very beginning and I saw all your little irresponsible and immature moments along the way but I would let them slide. I did not want to concentrate on anything negative because there were many good things about you to counteract that, and I had my mind set on having two wonderful carefree weeks together.

You have been kind, open-minded and adventurous. You never hid your emotions and you made me feel special in many ways. I wish you organized your life however, and set your priorities straight. I wish you stopped trying to be a crowd-pleaser and thought about what truly makes you happy, acting upon things which you wouldn’t regret an hour later. Maybe then you’d start making the right decisions the first time around.

I had a great time with you, my sweet California boy.
Stop saying sorry and simply remember me instead.


You finding my blog felt a bit like finding myself naked in the middle of the street. I told you I wouldn’t be mad and I’ll stick to my word, although emotions do boil in me every now and then when I think about it. I guess it’s not so much the fact that you read it — anyone in the world can see it after all — it’s about how you found it, it was a bit shady to look around my computer, don’t you think? Then again, I’d probably do the same in that situation so I am not sure if I am even allowed to be mad at you. I always thought I was the sneaky one, I didn’t expect that from you. Next time you want to know something, ask me nicely and I might as well tell you.

It was nice of you to show appreciation for my writing.
I truly appreciate your art too, and I hope you know it.

Still, you shouldn’t do things behind my back.
I should clear my browser history more often.

On the same page

We talked last night, opening our hearts to each other.

The world span around you and me, our friends’ chatter and screeching of passing cars silenced by our voices, the city pausing for a moment in a small quiet alley to listen to our hearts find a common beat.

We were throwing passionate words at each other, catching them in midair, fascinated by the similarity of our thoughts, by the tragic beauty of the situation, by the light summer breeze tickling our minds, making them lightweight.

You and I have found a perfect world in each other’s arms, a world so full of life, beauty, laughter, new acquaintances and old long-lasting bonds. Our paths intertwined so quickly, every piece of the puzzle falling into place so perfectly, your friends and mine, art, music, humor, walks, sleepless nights, turning crazy ideas into life… and the rain.

Our world is meant to end abruptly one day and — aware of that — we leave no time for arguments, jealousy, misunderstanding. I wonder if any relationship would be this perfect if two people always acted as if there were no tomorrow, with only today being theirs to enjoy and live to the fullest. One perfect day at a time.
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