Saudade. Chapter 7

I wish there was some actual cure for my anxiety even if at this point I understand that I should be the one challenging my feelings and thoughts. No medicine can cure thinking when I’m driving myself up the wall with my own thinking. It’s the way I do it that is bothersome.

I engaged in some brief talk, which I won’t recall now, about the weather, about how hot and nice Brazil is and maybe even mentioned how you and his partner were suffering under the snow, obviously, while we ended up in some slice of paradise, because even scorching heat is better than snow. Maybe the small talk would tire you? But it was really just that, as we slowly walked back to the hotel and even bumped into some drunk underage teenagers, but I don’t think they care much about ID here, at least that’s the impression I always get. It’s always the strict parents who try to get to them. I don’t particularly feel horny, I feel drained and the desire to sleep in David’s arms or him in my own is overwhelming and intoxicating, frankly. I remember how we started sleeping all wrapped up and then we would just cuddle, but in the beginning we would arrange our faces so that we wouldn’t end up touching the other’s breath. Sometimes that bothers me, it always bothers me that the love becomes domestic and it drives me crazy because I always want love to be on the forefront.

And there’s always the wrong memories, the ones which should be hidden now, but I remember how he would ignore me and not reply for days sometimes even when we were dating for no good reason. He would always make it sound like it was just too difficult and I couldn’t understand what was wrong with the times. Maybe all of this was a mistake, but then we’re not fully involved right now and how much do people really change? How many mistakes have we both committed? What about the main one?

We head back to his room again and start kissing. I don’t think it will escalate, no matter how hungry they feel. It makes my head dizzy, as then we just decide to flick through the channels which are all in Portuguese besides some news channels, which just show a kaleidoscope of how fucked up everything is according to the news, which never discuss anything properly. It’s odd to know that everything is fabricated these days. But then when has it not been? News always made sure to make people panic horrifically. Because only fear can make people move forwards into any regime and thinking.

I wonder about our silence, because we would be leaving soon. The only event was the wedding. It was never supposed to be some super long getaway. I feel awfully tired that I start falling asleep and when he turns off the mumbling Portuguese I am barely awake.

The problem about having anxiety is that it manages to seep through dreams and drip onto them, making the dream a bit long panic attack. Not only they don’t make sense, but it doesn’t help relax at all. I keep thinking about how it was to discover who I was somehow and how I slept around. I had told my parents that I was a gay man on top of being trans and the notion of them finding out that I was literally sleeping around with strangers because there was a thrill, scared me. I didn’t want to be judged further and frankly on bad days I still struggle with what I’ve done somehow. I just look at my own parents and everyone else who happens to be monogamous and puts sex and love on the shelf. I never wanted to be like that, I never understood why should one put that away. So it becomes a question whether I should be doing that too in order not to be judged? And now I was sleeping with my ex and frankly we didn’t even use protection because I just felt like it.

I didn’t know what else to say or how to calm me down, because I never could. I would just continue judging me through life for everything I’ve done. My desire to open up was something I was desperately ashamed of and I tried to do my best to remain monogamous because everyone else was. And writing all of this down should be helping, but I’m still doing it.

I was now awake.

I looked up to stare at a sleeping David with the harsh lulls from the TV. Maybe I should just leave? Sometimes I wonder if I should listen to my intrusive thoughts, and what else have I not heard now? And sometimes I would be the one to break relationships, was that going to be the case now as well? What future did we even hold with being in an actual engagement with someone else, someone who I loved deeply? What about David? I was shaking even if it was ridiculously hot. Would I leave? Should I leave?

I moved a bit too suddenly and David woke up.

He started stroking my trembling arms.

“I’m leaving.” He looks at me wide eyed and confused. I need to clarify. “I’m leaving the city, I’m moving. I always wanted to get out of there.”

I never even allowed myself to think much of it. I know that I’m a terrible mess. David seems a bit calmer, but still worried. He’s lost me before and I had declined him when he offered to get back together once. Maybe the things I’ll never ask will be enough for me to forget him entirely and for good.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” I have issues. I just shrug, looking away before he puts his hand in my hair. Maybe we became each other. Maybe love makes a mutation of the other in me.

“I don’t want to lose you again.” He says.

“You already did.” I swallow. I shouldn’t have even put his hopes up. I lower my head. I’m a disgrace. I have no idea how is this supposed to be relaxing in any way. He didn’t do anything this time. I grab his hands. “You have a girlfriend and I’m engaged.”

He stares at me, lost. I’m sudden and harsh, just like he once was. Is this some deep rooted revenge? But then he gradually pushed every domino to fall before they all caught up in front of each other. And we barely talked over dinner. Is that all we had to say after all these years?

I wanted to leave the room and I did leave it eventually, I kept thinking of you. We ended our conversation there and just like always, he never pushed it, as if he ever respected my decision but I guess he did. My whole body was still shaking as I closed the door and slowly made my way back into my room, already knowing that I wouldn’t be able to talk to you in this state. My brain was silent with no pop music blasting, all I could hear was my own heavy breathing and stare at the done bed.

I grabbed my computer, opened my e-mail and proceeded to write this, as long as it was fresh in my mind.

This closing chapter ended up being shorter than the rest, but it closes everything and now I can finally talk freely.

I wanted the boyfriend to be left nameless, anonymous even, regardless that Allan spoke of him often and spoke of how they had met. I wanted him to just be there, a presence really and end it without knowing what the reply ever is.

It’s really bizarre to put everything to rest. Also, as I kept writing I kept asking myself well, this is what’s going to happen, won’t it? I get cold feet very often and this was just a version of myself which would do such a crucial mistake in his life. I had originally planned it differently, but as the story progressed the more I saw that Allan was getting cold feet.

I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did and a new story will be published from next Friday as always.


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