Sometimes, I still need you.

I’m listening to The XX and this feels like December’12. I was a little bit relieved, a little bit expectant and most of all pretty apprehensive about what was to come. Before I even noticed, it’s been half a year. My worries didn’t turn out to be very big problems at all. I did fine for O’s, and I more or less managed to fit myself into a social circle. Of course life is a lot less exciting than it used to be, but I guess I’ll make do with this for another year. This time next year, I’d probably be done with A2. The thought of this is pretty terrifying. I’m going to be planning to get my ass elsewhere, hopefully. I’d be leaving all of what I have now behind. I hope that wouldn’t turn out to be something too difficult, or maybe I do.

We are exactly a week away from the beginning of Semester 2. I was just asking myself whether I made the fullest out of Semester 1, whether I made my dad’s 13++k worthwhile. Well, the answer was a no but what’s new. I hope I don’t get the same answer from myself at the end of this year. It’s been almost 2 weeks into post-exam and I have yet to done anything academically productive. I can feel my brain rotting away. Can I just say that this is the problem with learning things you don’t even want to learn at the first place?

I wonder if you’ve heard. 

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

If You Forget Me – Pablo Neruda

So I guess you’re happy now, and that’s great. I hope I meant something, anything would do. I hope I held a place, even as I continue trying to convince myself that fate tore us apart for good.

(I guess you’d figure I stopped listening to The xx.)

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Posted in Air

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