My brave insect killer

“On the way home I wrote a poem You say, "What a mind" This happens all the time

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Causе they said the end is coming Evеryone's up to something I find myself running home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shoving You're in the kitchen humming All that you ever wanted from me was nothing

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Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more" To you, I can admit that I’m just too soft for all of it”

I love this song called “sweet nothing” by Taylor Swift, I find it to be indeed the sweetest softest song about love, in the beauty of not expecting, not because expecting was contrary to love, only because when you had nothing to give, it was reassuring to know that you were loved and cared about even then.

It reminds me of poems and letters I wrote to someone I have always considered to be as my person, my best friend, my companion in life, mine, as they read them, I look at their face, faced with a joy and delight they felt towards my silly words, expressed happiness so eagerly, it filled my heart with pride and gratification, as if I wrote some revolutionary political statement.

The unhurried relaxing humming, slow going, comforting, gentle and soothing after a long day of hustles and wrestles in an uncaring selfish world, knotted my lashes and drove me to sleep while on the phone, to a pinkish dreamland, to an alternative Semiramis’ garden, or on their shoulder on a train, suddenly I couldn’t hear the annoying sound of the railroad, it was just the humming, heavenly and sedative, nothing else existed for that long fraction of time in which I wished for the road to never end, for us to never arrive, to forever stay in that train, with his humming on repeat, with his shoulder just right there, with the sun blocked in its place as he looks at my hands as if they were some sort of prize he has won.

With a warm palette of colours that draws the past summers and the feel of a breezy silky air that caresses my face and that runs through my hair, faint melody in my ears, I remember all the times the sand didn’t burn my feet although I forgot about bringing sandals to the beach, because I have always been given his.

All the times I wasn’t allowed to carry even the lightest of things, or help with the smallest of gestures, I was carried through life easily with no reel problems, just champagne ones I created from time to time out of boredom.

All the times I had the best seat in restaurants and cafés with the best lightning, the best background, and as everyone’s camera was pointing to the sky, his was pointing at me.

Never have I had that yearning longing feeling to have someone talk about me the way King George addressed Queen Charlotte, because I had it, and I did cherish it, I held it so dearly, not once have I took it for granted, because I was thankful I didn’t have to live wondering how it must have felt like to have someone fall in love with you for just existing and being, who made you feel beautiful because their love reflected daylights on your body and soul, as they looked at you as if you were some sort of muse.

And when I went to tell him about the potential of a weblog, the excitement I saw in his acts was more than the one I had when I told him about the idea. I understood through many occasions similar to that one, how it looked like to have someone support you and want you to do the things you enjoyed to do, someone who wanted you to feel accomplished and have your own thing that made you feel alive and active, someone who wasn’t intimidated by you giving attention to something else and someone who read every essay with lots of attentiveness, observance and meticulousness.

When things went wrong, for whatever reason, he was there to understand and fix. He wanted to know why you felt what you felt, how he could fix how you felt, how he could make every bad thing go away. He wanted to take all your paralyzing worries, debilitating fears and sapping terrors that were so disturbing to you could scarcely tangle your eyes and sleep.

You could count on somebody, for the first time in your life, you could trust freely, without fears of what could go wrong and what would happen if you closed your eyes for a second, for a minute, for an hour or even if you went blind for the rest of your life, you could trust someone to guide you through the jungles of existence and the wildness of being, your only wish then would be to be so tiny and small that he could carry you inside the pockets of his suit.

I wasn’t the shiny sleigh bell, I wasn’t a disco ball in his life, or a crystal chandelier that only reflected life and colours into his life, that entertained him through the bads and darks of life as he chose to exempt me from the goods and lights of it by being with someone else. I wasn’t just that. I wasn’t a dull detail which only role was to make things alive, I wasn’t a clown as I once thought I was, I wasn’t an animator in his life. I was expected to just be and stay, quiet or talkative, it didn’t matter.

He didn’t have an idea about me, as in he didn’t reduce me to anything good or bad, he just saw me, as a whole, never less never more, but as a perfectly complete entity, as an everything, everywhere all at the same time, I always lived in the back of his mind and the profoundness of his heart.

I could have never reduced him to one thing either, his charming presence, charismatic intelligence, strong aura. I could see everyone’s eyes on him when we were together, after his solid remarks or funny jokes; I loved him even more for it. It didn’t mean that I loved him for the show or for how he looked like to other people, because I adored him in secret. He simply deserved to be the centre of regards and the marrow of attention, with his strong magnetic hegemonic presence. He deserved the recognition for everything he did. He was a diligent hard-working person, persistent, always aimed for the best and got just that, his vision was always set for far and farther, and that didn’t take away anything from his humour, making him the greatest most fun company anyone could ever ask for. He fit just right in every place; he was the right piece in every puzzle, even in my life.

He manipulated everything with care and thoroughness, even me; he handled me, my sensitivity, my crazy mind and hysterical swings with lots of care and aegis, never with judgement, never threw gasoline to my mad fires. Nothing has ever felt so right before.

His calmness and serenity, a composure I have never witnessed in someone else before, soothed and pacified all the sounds and voices I had in my head, all my concerns and disturbances melted away. His patience with me, as I stutter to express myself, or begin to be an overdramatic person over unserious situations, or as my voice cracks when my tears couldn’t cease, or suddenly become the chattiest person on earth right before he goes to sleep and begin to say the most random things just to keep him awake for a few extra minutes, or through the process of teaching me how to ride a bike or a motorcycle or drive a car, or get my hair the way I want it to be in a picture, or continuously not bring a jacket because it would ruin my outfit and he would always give me his and deny that he was freezing, or when I rambled songs I made about him being my brave insect killer or him being all my fruits.

I looked up to him, in character, intelligence, actions. If a voice in my head “He wouldn’t have done that” then I know I am doing something wrong. Even my jokes began to look like his. And I began to slowly physically look like him, that people thought he was brother, it filled my heart with joy because years ago before meeting with him I have once wrote that slowly transforming into the person you love, is indeed a sign of love, was it because our souls intertwined or was it by mere luck or was it the result of simple laws of attraction, I couldn’t care less.

I have never asked him a question and not gotten my answer, it was exceedingly attractive.

And his face, a light complexion contrasting with the darkness of his hair, was the most beautiful fresh creation my eyes landed on, he was my freshly fallen snow and my long awaited sunshine, I wouldn’t want to get into more details because no words are enough and it would be just disrespectful and unfair to say something I know wouldn’t be enough, but to say the least, I have never wanted to look at anything else then when I found him. I saw everything. All the shapes, all the colours, all the shades, all the tones and the tints. Ocean blues, golden yellows, glaring greens, burning reds, bright pinks, glittering whites, vivid oranges, deep blacks, a palette of distinguished colours, of ardour and enthusiasm I have never seen before coloured my life and added soul to the body of my life and portrayed glimpses of gardens of Babylon.

Every time he spoke, everything else was quite, nothing else mattered. His voice made me feel so safe, secure, at peace, protected saying that tomorrow was the sweetest assurance, of an everlasting promise.

Never kept a count of my wrongs or score of my mistakes, I knew I could always come back to him, no matter how selfish the things I had to say were, or how hysterical I was when I said them, no matter how stupid it was, no matter what time it was.

I knew I did the right thing in my life, when I reached a solid conviction in my heart and a true persuasion in my mind that if time went back, I would intentionally fail the medical school access exam the first time and again leave Montpellier behind me without any regret; guilt or bitterness if it meant with certainty that I will find him.

I suppose if there was anything I could talk and write about tirelessly and relentlessly, it would be love.

I love to see love around me and feel it, in the softest of ways, most fearless of ways, sincerest and slowest of ways, firm yet yielding. This feeling so complex yet so simple, I could never think of reducing it to chemical reactions, or rationalize it based on the simple laws of biology and neuroscience, resume its beautiful entanglements and intricacy to the belief that we are programmed to end up with someone just because we are afraid of ending up alone or merely because we want to guarantee the continuity of our bloodlines through future generations by procreating with someone.

But with love comes loss, or at least the fear of loss, with which comes a sadness so cruel and an uncertainty so hazardous, with a shaken heart and doubtful mind, as intense and profound as that love was. When you know that that time is around the corner, the time in which you know you will have to choose, if in the past you chose for them to stay with you over anything, this time it was over anything except their happiness, with a slow realization that may be you were not the one, as you have always feared, but the one pre the one, who prepared him for his one.

You look back at it, a soft pinch of love was it real or was it a dream, either way it felt surreal, like the glimpse of afterlife in a dream, the shadow of their memory is forever just around and here, after a loss or its potential, nights run sleepless, days go with tiredness, hours pass without any sense of softened tenderness, minutes only add to your madness a great never ending sadness, with it grows more precarious, a feeling so hideous, a lingering persisting fear so atrocious, it makes your mind even more tumultuous and sets your alarms and radars beyond the immediate.

To wake up the next day, it is hard to put on your glasses, you always have a hard time putting on your glasses when the world becomes too harsh and ruthless, but with them you chose to put them on even through it, so that not even for a second, you would miss the beauty of a ray of their radiant laugh or miss a glimpse of the melting look on their eyes, as they look at you with all the love and tenderness this world has to offer and could ever give, I am with you now and with you ever more, their hands say firmly assure.

The aching memory of the past, a feeling time doesn't seem to patch, to have disappointed that person when the only thing they asked from you was for you to be happy and the only responsibility they ever handed to you and asked you to bear through your intertwined paths, was for you to not constantly make your life miserable and to be easier and nicer to yourself.

You ask yourself, what type of pathologically self-inflicting pain and torment person could you be to ever disappoint someone in this particular request, multiple times, your creative abilities and mind somehow managed to let down the purest person in your life, with the least selfish intentions in their hearts, with your crooked overthinking habits and condescending apprehensions.

Now, with a crestfallen view over the past, you ask yourself, was it good that you experienced such a love, or was it the most saddening and depressing thing you ever did. Was it worth to live the happiest days of your life with someone only to lose them and be left with the remains of those affections and with a never ending crippling pain, or was it better to have never known how beautiful it could have been or that it ever existed just to never know how cold it would be after the warmth of its daylight was taken away from you.

But at least you knew that you would have chosen hard times with them, over easy ones with someone else. It felt so right, so warm, in a separate bubble from the world, like nothing bad could ever happen and the whole world could crumble and shatter but not for your little bubbly world, full of potentials and one days.

I wished to have been, one of those days, as good of a partner to him as he has always been to me, as he has never failed to be, as he never stopped being, as he has never wanted to be something different than that.

Making you my favourite person, was it really a distinction I have given you, or a perpetual torment I have added to your problems and a weight I have appended to your previous loads, with my selfish inclinations and intentions, as I know that I could do a n y t h i n g for you, I know that occasions in which I have to prove that statement to you would rarely ever present themselves to us, but your sensible gentleness, the liveliness of your energy, your solid reassurance, your reliable devotion, your unchanged patience, a never ending list of your fairy character, in their persistence through e v e r y t h i n g, were the most stable constant evidence that added flesh and soul to my existence’s skeleton.

To you, sooner or later, I know you will read this.

In my heart I carry the most beautiful intentions and affections to you, I carry you in my heart with them, then, now, tomorrow and ever more. You will never be repeated through someone else, no one compares to you and no one will ever compare, for whatever it’s worth, my soul will be forever intertwined with yours, in all its parts, thank you for the shame I have never felt with you, for the courage you set in my heart, the hush you have descended in my mind, the love you have sowed and crocheted in my soul, the beauty you have put in my life, the lights you have turned on as you walked through the dark alleys of my thoughts, the softness with which you have handled my flaws, the delicacy with which you have manoeuvred my shortfalls, the patience and grace with which you have waited for me to change.

It is funny to quote Drake in here, but “if you had a twin I would still choose you.” You, my brave insect killer.