These days, while slouching on the couch, I found myself observing my apartment. Though I have been living here for more than two years now, I was meticulously analysing every corner my sight could reach without me having to move.

“Wow,” was the first thought that came to mind. “I live here.”

Don’t get me wrong. I am not bragging. My apartment is a regular one-bedroom far enough from downtown that I can afford it. And that is my first recognition of accomplishment. I can afford a one-bedroom apartment all by myself.

This realization caused me awe for two reasons:

1. I am normally beating myself up, constantly thinking that I am far behind, that I am late, and that I should be more than what I am at any given moment;
2. I am the “keep-going” type of guy. The one that keeps battling, even when the war is over. I just keep fighting, not stopping to celebrate victories or to recognise my accomplishments once in a while.

Nonetheless, surprisingly there was I, not only acknowledging a victory but also celebrating it, praising myself for being where I dreamt to be. It wasn’t easy to get here and for the first time I actually saw that. I comprehended that and assimilated it.

I was stunned. And that felt good. Good enough that made me wonder why I don’t do it often. Why don’t I recognise more my accomplishments instead of dragging myself down for things I haven’t gotten yet? Why do I keep complaining about what I don’t have and completely ignore all the thing I do have, things that were once a dream and now are a reality.

I think this is part of our eternal human duality: Wanting what we don’t have while not appreciating what we do.

I once dreamt that I was going to be who I am today: someone living abroad, being able to afford themselves, having an independent life, and surrounded by good people.

That dream once came true. I guess I was too busy to keep dreaming more, focusing too much on the goal and too little on the journey.

I once dreamed that I was me… And that… That is my everything.

***

For the first time, I look myself in the mirror and I appreciate what I see. Yes, I do have some crowfeet, yes, I can easily spot white hair on my head now, and yes, my skin isn’t as lush.

But that is who I am now. And before I wasn’t as grown up as I am now. I am my own upgrade, and that feels awesome.

Not long ago I thought I was close to my rock bottom, but, in reality, I don’t even know where that is, because I don’t really think I ever experienced it.

It is no longer about waiting for a sunny day to feel complete. It’s about enduring the dark rainy days while keeping my inner light intact.

“Yeah” I gasp in relief, “I think I finally re-found myself.”

Today was absolutely gorgeous. The second day in a row with temperatures above 12 degrees Celsius, accompanied by our not-so-present Sun. We’ve been so lucky: though still one season apart from Summer, we could all say that today was a generous sneak peek of what is to come in three months.

After a nourishing fat breakfast, our group went separate ways much earlier than I anticipated – I must confess – but you stayed with me: our way back home was the same.

It didn’t take long for us to dive into introspective topics. Things from the heart, of course, and also things about our aspirations in life and where we think we are heading. Sure, I may have started the trend but you didn’t fall behind. A fluid and rich back and forth filled our conversation with challenging questions that would make us reflect about ourselves and our lives.

At some point, I share with you what’s been up with me and what’s been occupying my mind lately. Nothing too new or too foreign. Still, novice enough for you to point out an interesting pattern:

“You are too much in your head. ” – you say objectively – “You are thinking too much.”

For a second, this sentence takes me back to the past. Around twelve years ago, precisely. Don, a great old friend of mine, is seated in front of me telling the exact same thing. Just like you did, he would always point out how much overthinking I was doing.

I giggle.

“An old friend would always tell me that. It is funny how it seems I haven’t fixed this since then.”

We keep our conversation going, changing our lines of thought but still deep-diving into ourselves.

Not much longer after, we see ourselves at our destination. We part ways before I can tell, but the relief you brought stayed with me.

Experiences like today’s are what make me feel so glad to be alive. They remind me how complex we are, yet so small compared to the immense universe that swallows our existence.

Nothing is too small to be ignored.

And nothing is so big that it can’t be somehow dismissed.

What determines how the tiebreaker will unfold is the observer. Be it conscious or unconsciously.

***

The new year arrived with the promise of new beginnings, an interesting sense of curiosity and… a little bit of anxiety to experience what would come next.

I must confess that I normally don’t believe in the magic of the New Year. It’s because, logically speaking, we are just crossing one of the multiple imaginary lines in our lives. Just like borders dividing countries or parallels and meridians slicing the globe into cubes. We increment the year counter by 1 and then we are magically granted a boost to restart. When we put things this way, this all sounds a bit too unreasonable.

This year, though, it all felt a bit different. This time, the New Year really felt like a restart. Many things were left behind, with or without my consent, sometimes even without my awareness. I saw my life turn upside down, and then flip around before spinning uncontrollably. What I believed to be solid terrain proved to be as unstable as quicksand. It sounds terrible, I know, but it was a great year. And, hey, I survived. We all did.

I watched broken bridges be rebuilt and, for a glimpse of time, I saw myself reunited with people I hadn’t seen in a while. It was so nostalgic it made me unsure whether I had traveled back in time or if that was just a sweet dream.

There was so much loss, but also so much gain.

I chuckle. “It’s all about balance”, they say. I have to agree on this one.

As we advance to the second quarter of this new year, the year doesn’t feel like new anymore. But the magic is still here. The path in front of me is earthy and rustic but well-lit. The sunlight stubbornly dodges the leaves of the trees ahead making the scene so warm and cozy. The horizon is a bit cloudy, but clear enough for me to be able to guess what’s waiting for me on the other side.

And for a while – man, it’s been a while – I truly smile. Not a halfway half-assed smile. A big bright one.

Because am finally heading towards where I want to be.

And for that, my friend, I couldn’t be happier.

***

I am looking at a blank page, trying to transcribe all these bubbly feelings inside. The urgency to let it all out is strong, so much so that I can’t hold back. Yet, I stutter. All I can get is a set of repetitive words and phrases that I have already used in many of my writings.

I start by describing a scene that depicts how the sunlight is beautifully embellishing the environment, before I can finish this sentence, I press the backspace repeatedly.

When I finally relax, after repeating the process above a few times, I get back to the keyboard eager to fulfill this calling to put my thoughts on paper. Many images and scenes flood my brain, making it so hard to process everything… Memories mixed with made-up stories in my mind flash before my eyes as soon as I close them.

And then I see you. And us. In a blend of recollections and fiction. I can barely distinguish what is real and what isn’t. I randomly feel the jeans jacket you were wearing on that cold night, both of us shivering but not wanting to be the one to call it a night. More and more scenes drench my brain without my consent.

I don’t hold back a giggle. I am scared to death, but can’t really not follow my rule #1: avoid holding back. So I don’t. As reckless as I can be.

“Uh Oh”, I say before I sigh. In one of those “Aha” I realise the obvious.

Yes, I think I just caught a cold.

I’m walking in the rain on my way home. A love song is playing loudly on repeat on my phone for the sixth time now, probably. This couldn’t be more cliché, though I am enjoying every second of it.

I haven’t pressed the eject button, yet, but I have been waving goodbye for some time. Yet, I’m right here, exactly where you are. Why, then, does my heart ache and burn so much?

I stare at the clock and flinch when I think of the fact our ending is approaching. At what time precisely will this chapter close? How much will I enjoy before I go? Will I be able to savour our last kiss? Would I be able to tell you it is the last one?

Well, I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. I guess we can agree that it was inevitable. Although I believed our feelings for each other could change the course of our destiny, there was a great chance I wouldn’t be able to withstand what was being offered to me.

It’s because I don’t want to hate you that I need to go.

It’s because I want to think fondly of you, even when you’re no longer “mine”. Cherish all the memories we built together instead of regretting them.

One day, when I all need to say to you leaves my mouth and makes its way to you like a shooting star, its dust trail will light up our hearts for the last time before everything changes.

A weak but sincere smile will seal our fate, leaving behind a case full of unrealised dreams.

Not too long after, light will break this darkness that lingers heavily in the air…

That is because it’s always darkest before the dawn.

So be it.

The sun is shining in weird angles. Places in the apartment that didn’t get any sunlight are now bathed with it intensely. I know, it is the shift in seasons. It is just curious how these small details still catch my attention, even after repeating themselves over and over again.

I am glad the sun is out. It doesn’t matter how long it is gone, when it is back, it always manages to make a clear statement ”I will show up eventually“. That brings me comfort. It makes me look forward to brighter days when all there is is darkness. I guess part of my perseverance comes from the fact I always expect that the light will be back, no matter how or when.

Throughout most of my life, I worried. I still do. I worry that I am not healthy enough, good enough, happy enough, fast enough. I worry that I am late for what hasn’t even come yet. If I had known all the times I hadn’t seized due to my preoccupation with things, would I have been encouraged to change my behaviour?

I am looking at you right in the eyes. Yes, you. And time seems to have stopped. I observe how incredibly well the blue of your eyes matches with the blue of the sky. It is so damn annoying, I tell you. I hold your hands. They feel warm and cozy. I am about to let them go, but I am afraid that by doing so I’d be repeating the same mistake again… Not waiting for the cake to be ready; Trying to haste a step that needs time. So I hold on. For now.

The truth is that I don’t want to wake up from you. But I don’t want this to become a nightmare either. Am I really dreaming or am I wide awake? If I open my eyes, will you disappear?

In the realm of make-believe, I walk on a silver line, balancing myself not to fall from cloud nine. Step by step. Breathing steadily. Smiling and frowning according to the beat.

If I ever let go, please know that it was a last resort for self-preservation. And that I didn’t want to open my eyes, really. That whatever it was that was said was true at that time…

At last, know that I am not sorry.

Because maybe it just wasn’t the right time.

Maybe we will cross paths again, or maybe not.

And if I end up not letting go.

Well…

Then, let’s just scratch out the above.

I lie down on the living room floor and look through the window. The outside is upside-down, purposefully, and I can’t hold it but giggle a bit at my silliness. I notice how gorgeous the day is: the sky is blue and the sun is beaming strongly. Although the weather looks warm, I know the wind is crisp and the air is not as hot as a month ago. We can’t deny that Autumn is around the corner.

The leaves on the trees in front of my window are gracefully dancing and shining bright as the sunlight penetrates their surface. I wish I could hear their sound, but I can’t: I am listening to one of my favourite songs and I wasn’t shy when setting the volume to almost 100%. While the melody plays along, I keep watching the leaves jittering to the wind incessantly. My heart beats steadily, following the percussion of the song I am listening to.

My mind is far away, crossing a different galaxy as I navigate through a set of emotions. They aren’t loud, which is good, and nothing is foreign: I have been here before; I know this place like the back of my hand. I guess I should be freaking out. Instead, I shrug: It is because I know that the most precious thing to me will never be taken away.

I feel as “comfy” as one can be, floating on and spinning around massive waves of sensations and experiences, like a kid playing in a park. I see life blooming around me, beginnings and endings popping up everywhere.

For the first time in a long time, I love what I see on the horizon before me. It is no longer muddy or dark. It isn’t crystal clear either, but the truth is that it never was. I am gobsmacked by this bright light that is coming from it… Because this is no longer a promise, it is now a reality.

This light warms up every single cell of my body.

And for that…

For that, I am immensely grateful.

I roll my eyes the second I look at the clock and I realise I am fully awake even though it still is six on the dot.

I sigh as my options don’t look good right now: Closing my eyes again will only kill time; Getting to work so early will not make it any better.

I then stay in bed and wait for the big waves of questioning thoughts to flood my mind without a real purpose.

For starters, I am glad I am awake because waking up did cease what I would call a silly nightmare in which “he” throws another tantrum and trashes my place. No further comments on that. The dream before it was as bad: I was trapped in a woody feudal city, trying to stay above water as the whole municipality was being hit and flooded by a tsunami. As far as I can remember, I managed to survive, though it wasn’t an outstanding experience if I can be completely honest here.

I decide to get up – feeling defeated for not being able to nap again – and stand by the window. Cars are passing slowly. I mean, why would they even rush at this hour? The sky is grey and the air coming from outside is refreshing. No doubt the summer is phasing out.

The leaves on the trees in front of my unit will soon be all yellow, then gone. That in a month or two. And while I observe a few of them fall here and there, I think of how life’s about to turn again, just like this season.

Soon, I will be back to square one. Now officially. I can clearly picture this place less busy and quieter. This, in particular, doesn’t scare me, I actually feel excited about it: It symbolises the closure of another chapter, announcing that the darkest has passed and the dawn is finally tinting the horizon.

Although things are looking great, I am scared. Scared to death, as usual. Preoccupied with what I think will happen given past experiences (even knowing that the outcome is in my favour after all hurdles are overcome). Anticipating and preparing for things that might not even take place, like a survivalist. What a silly goose, right?

A ray of light breaks through the clouds and warms up my face. It soon fades away and the day becomes dull again. Its warmth lingers for a while before giving in, long enough for me to smirk.

“Good timing” – I think. Right before an imminent and spiral descent.

The alarm rings. It’s now seven. I wake up from this trance I am in and finally start my mundanely exciting routine.

The same realisation I always have pops in my head once again: Nothing is under control, just like it should be.

As the Autumn grins and waves hi with its spooky tiny little twigy hands, I watch the sunlight bathe your face in a late afternoon.

I am not sure how this makes me feel, but I can’t deny: I love the view. Maybe it is the shape of your iris or perhaps it is how the light enhances its colour. Something just makes this too interesting to be unnoticed. Without much delay, though, I quiet and smoothly focus my sight in a different direction. That breaks any possibility of tension between us… Or so I’d like to believe.

Life still feels weird. Ups and downs here and there, for sure, and probably more ups than downs. Yet, somehow the horizon is not as clear as it was “meant” to be. Whatever that means.

Everything feels foreign, weird and awkward like having deep conversations with complete strangers and being vulnerable with them as if we were close friends. Playing a game of give and take while measuring how much to give based on what we are taking.

How much to give is up to us. That until the choice is no longer in our hands. You know, it only takes one boundary to be crossed before we realise it may be too late to step back. Again, whatever the latter means.

***

I navigate through different universes, while delimiting the boundaries of my own with a certain degree of caution. I allow visitors from different galaxies to hop on and off, placing “do not enter” signs wherever applicable in hopes they will stay firm.

I am in control until I am not.

It’s boring to hold it all in.

It’s dangerous to let it all out.

So in this duality, I stand in between. Holding in what I can, while letting out what can’t stay hidden forever.

And if at some point my path intertwine with his, whoever he is, so be it.

A different outcome can only exist if the variables passed are not the same ones as before.

So they say…

You know, so they say…

I remember watching the horizon and the blinking lights of the city before us from the 26th floor when you suddenly ask me:

“Are you sure about this? I mean… Isn’t it too early?”

I can see the gears behind your eyes turning frantically. You are preoccupied. Your face tries to hide it, but your eyes are saying it all loud and clear. You have more to say, I can tell. But you choose to be cautious, picking the right words perfectly before putting them out there.

“I don’t know” – I brush the worries aside – “I am happy. Happy as I haven’t been in a long time. Guess I’m focusing on that for now”.

You look away. How can you make a comeback to that? You hesitate, I notice.

Right before I can ask you anything, you turn your eyes back to me and smile.

“If you’re happy, then be happy. You seize it with all you got and don’t let go”.

We look at each other and I nod.

“Alright”.

Fast-forward to now.

I am looking at the horizon with a weak smile. It is not the same scenery as the one on that night, but I bet it is as majestic as it can possibly be. The sun is not close to the sea. Yet, it looks as golden as if it were. The daylight is turning slightly amber as we approach the late afternoon.

This is a perfect beach day, as long as I find a way to fully seize it.

I am surrounded by people I barely know, but somehow I feel very comfortable.

I have a sip of the cider inside the black thermos. Someone turns to me and asks something kindly, to which I reply quite automatically. I can’t recall the question, but I guess it doesn’t really matter.

I feel so alive and so ready. Nonetheless, the mess I have just been through is still floating above my head as a stubborn stormy cloud.

I sigh, as usual.

“What is wrong?” – someone else asks me.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. I’m just thinking. Do I look sad?”

“Not really, no. You just look adrift”.

“Lost in my own thoughts, I guess” – I reply and smile – “Better get back to Earth, right?”

“Take all the time you need, sir”.

I close my eyes and focus on the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.

I take a moment to feel the weak breeze sliding on my cheeks.

The sun feels cozily warm. Not as strong as a couple of hours before and also not as cold as the golden hour. It feels just right.

When I open my eyes again, I realise my vision is a bit cloudy now.

I scratch my eyes slightly and wipe my fingers on my shorts.

I stand up and go straight to the sea.

Thankfully no one asks where I am going to or if they can join me.

My feet touch the water and I can feel my skin retracting from the cold.

I observe my ankles getting beaten up by the waves while they come and go indefinitely.

A mix of all sorts of feelings floods my chest violently.

I stand still.

I am fine.

I breathe in.

I already said goodbye to you.

Now I must say goodbye to the dreams we shared so that new ones can come.

That is the missing piece in the puzzle.

I finally get it.

So I watch silently.

I watch our dreams being taken away by the cold waters of the pacific ocean.

One by one.

Leaving behind a colourful brilliant trace of possibilities that will never come true.

I see every moment I dreamt of imprinted in the water while the waves crash and blend everything together.

Then, I observe the resulting mixture of colours expanding like an exploding supernova, slowly spreading out in the vast sea in front of me.

This goes until the water is see-through once again.

Somehow, this isn’t sad: It is profoundly liberating.

I exhale in relief.

“Goodbye” – I say.

“Thank you… For everything”.

So I turn my back to the sea and walk away.

It is over.

I smile. It feels a bit stronger than before.

It is over, for good.