I have been very bad lately... no posts at all. The reason or excuse was that I was really busy, then my phone/camera was fucking up and like on purpose did not want to take any photos, and now I have a problem with all those goddamn pictures that i have in the phone and cannot get rid of them. LOL

I was thinking the other day about the blogs... they are mainly read by other bloggers (don't you just love English - you can just invent a word and it sound as though it has been around for ages!!). What kind of people are we that we put things publicly and even more what kind of people are we that we read other's post, usually full of personal stuff, some real some fictional. I suppose we're all a bit exhibitionistic in one way of the other.

Which bring me to another subject: i read a post on one of the blogs about the following: he's in a great relationship and his boyfriend went for a business trip for four days and his world almost stopped. I started thinking about my own relationship and this is where this blog entry really begins:


I fell madly in love one winter day (and they say the spring is time to fall in love - I say bllllllll to that). We really fell in love on one specific moment which we both remember very clearly. We knew it was it. IT! We've been together ever since. All magnificent 5 years, 8 months and 12 days! Sublime. After a years and a half I decided though(even I always say it was OUR decision) that i move away. Away means 1200 (almost exactly) kilometres from him. I just had to pursue my dream and I'm lucky that he wanted me to pursue my dream too. The first separation was ok. We cried a bit, but I was too involved in my own selfish expectation of living in a foreign city with a different language and culture, adventures here I come! He came to visit and it was great. I still remember where it was how my room looked like and what my feeling were. Then the separation on the airport. Then me coming home for Christmas and New Year and the hardest separation ever. I did not want to leave, did not want to go back to that cold, rainy country to live without him. To wake up every morning without him, go to bed alone. To cook and eat alone, though knowing that far away there's someone I can share all these thing with. All my laughs, all my jokes, all my sadness and low moments. And all we had were sporadic phone calls, text messages and mails.
I had the worst time of my life. The January of 2003. I was actually hoping that something horrible would happen in the country, like an earthquake, a flood (which is here more likely), anything please, just so that I would have a reason to come home. Home to my Cmoko. I had constant pain in my solar plexus and could not sleep. I missed him so much and could not relax, could and would not live my own life. Did not want to be happy, because I believed the only time I can really be happy was with HIM. Then something happened. During yoga lessons I explained to my teacher what my situation was. She suggested that what I did is took a part of him - or that he gave a part of himself into me and that this is now disturbing my peace of mind. I went home and meditated. I sat on the floor and thanked him for the love that he is giving me. I thanked him for the piece of him that I carry around with me and told him that I don't need it. That it's his. That he should have it back. I asked him to take it back so that he be whole again, because that is how I love him - whole. I cried like a child. For hours. Next day I was better. And the day after also. Sometimes it came back and I always just observed it, looking at the pain and thanking it that it was there, because it made me remember what I have. And it always went away the next day. And sometimes it stayed for days. OK, I thought to myself. He will take it back again. And he always did.

I thought that the first separation will be the hardest and then it will get easier, that we will get used to it... illusions are of course by their nature sweet. Every time it was even harder. And after 3 years I promised myself that this is the last year we live this wretched life.... and of course it was not meant to be. We had to endure another year.

We both had to learn how to live without something we came to love so much. Without the touches, kisses, without the smell, smiles and the sound of the voice. Since the moment I cured myself I realized that I am not dependant on him. That love is not supposed to be kept in a little box somewhere, even though it is in the middle of your heart, but should be alive and out there. That love means being happy yourself and being happy making your loved one happy. That if I have fun and enjoy my time without him it does not mean that I don't love him anymore. And vice-versa.

Some people live apart for a very long time, we believe that 4 years was quite enough. And now since August we live together. In this cold, rainy and dark country. And you know what? It's not that rainy and cold and dark....