Usually when something hasn't gone my way, my first thought my first feeling, instinct has been to leave, to take off. But this time I haven't gotten to that point. 'Cause there's really nowhere else I'd rather be than in your humble corridor kitchen, in your bed with the worn-out mattress.

And you only had one duvet and your bed was really too small for two people. But you let me sleep there, you let me stay there. And my dyed black hairs are probably still there making a mess. In your corridor kitchen, in your bed on the worn-out mattress, in your bathroom. And maybe you have yet to get rid of the toothbrush that you gave me.

And a week ago we were sitting in the grey sofa in the common room, your long arms wrapped around me and you told me "I'm happy you're here". And I really felt like you meant it. And I had been out travelling for a bit thinking, "yeah, we'll see what happens when I return."And I went to the fanciest wedding ever and then to Stockholm and I thought "yeah we'll see, we'll see". 'Cause there are no guaranties really. But then you wrote to me and we hadn't spoken in a few days and it made me happy and I thought "maybe this could actually become something" and even though enjoying my travels I started looking forward to going back. To your worn-out mattress, to your corridor, to your long arms, to you.

In all my emotional crookedness, uncertainty and with a fresh break-up in May that made me loose my spirits and also five kilograms, I started looking forward to going back, 'cause there was something there, there was something to return to. There was a meaning in holding up for once. There was a meaning in staying in the city I'd left so many times before. 'Cause apparently I could be happy again, and apparently I had the courage to let someone in again and dared thinking and feeling that it was ok that uni wouldn't happen this time, this year.

All the conversations we had, you know I remember most of them. And how liberating it was to use foul language without being told that it didn't suit me to do so, as opposed to the last person I was with. How liberating it was to spend oceans of time looking at laughing at funny animal memes, and that it felt completely normal to do so and and that it was a good enough way of hanging out. Or like when we were watching Inside out, and you had told me that you rarely watched movies but you seemed to enjoy this one. How the kissing of ears was suddenly interrupted by laughter as I started having inappropriate thoughts on wether or not a man-sized furby also had an ear that was more sensitive than the other. And your reaction that I'd now ruined the furby for you and me saying "Furby Island down" and how you found that hilarious. Or that other time when talking about the spooning of a rubber duck and I asked you who of the two of you that used to be the bigger spoon. ("One question though...").

These are just examples, little moments when at least I felt that I didn't want to be anywhere else. There was nothing missing really. A complete and pulsing joy in a body, a mind that had been just as worn-out and sad as your bed mattress just a while back.

It was a summer that started at the bottom for me. It was a summer that took off without direction. A summer of confusion and a fresh separation. A summer that might as well could have continued accordingly. But all of a sudden you showed up and I had no expectations whatsoever. And I remember thinking feeling that maybe it was too early for me to let someone in. But I did and I threw myself out and I dared to and it was fucking fantastic. And now would be a good time to say that I don't regret anything, 'cause I don't. Not a single minute of it. But right now it hurts a bit too much admitting everything to myself. I felt like I had grown a bit stronger with you and sure, certain things in my life are still chaotic and I have certain decisions to make and things to get done and I live nowhere apart from Janita's now 'cause I haven't felt like being and sleeping alone this weekend. And my June was a lot about everything that didn't happen. But July and August was about all the other stuff, about feeling alive, about living again.

A summer came and went and despite the things that didn't happen to me something wonderful happened to me. It was a good enough reason to continue, a good enough reason not to leave again.

"I didn't see it coming" was my first thought when you told me you had to tell me something. But it came, the for me unexpected. And now I've lost it again. I'm sad again.

I want you to know something. I want you to know that I rarely fall for anyone. And sometimes, even when meeting and falling for someone I've made sure to leave quickly. A fear of standing still perhaps, not moving, not evolving. As if I always have to continue. Constantly somewhat on the road I guess. And many times, maybe usually, I like people in the beginning but quickly loose interest. But it wasn't like that this time, but rather the opposite. And it was unusual, uncomfortable and wonderful.

I don't know if it was anything in particular that happened, something I said, did, the way I behaved. But I guess these are questions one always asks oneself when being on the receiving end of "I have to tell you something." And you do it of course, you ask yourself these questions to try and understand something that is perhaps impossible to understand. 'Cause maybe it's all about a feeling, nothing else. I know that we didn't see each other for a very long time and hence I'm questioning the legitimacy of my feelings. But one can't help one's feelings I guess. They are simply there, illogical, inevitable and possibly impossible to explain.

Yet again, I really want to write that I don't regret a single moment of this summer and one day I will probably feel that way. That it was worth it. That it has to be. Right now though, I'm trying my best to understand something that's probably and utterly incomprehensible. The sudden "I have to tell you something" and how I suddenly lost what kept me going. But I will keep going 'cause there's no option really and maybe there will come a moment when I can appreciate hanging out as friends. Most relations are rather flexible anyways and it would be sad to let all of this go. For now though, I'll allow myself some sadness.