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Eleven…

Last year I managed quite a post, but don’t expect anything of the sort again now. Not that there’s any point in it or anything, but I need to mark the moment, maintain whatever faint shreds of a connection I can still desperately grasp at. When there’s no present and no future other than despair and fear, what’s left but clinging on to memories of the one time when it seemed it may be different… And the fear that those fade and are lost as well.
Not that this is one of those good memories. But there is that final kiss, and her presence there until the moment she walked out the door, and the fact that there may have still been some hope at that time, definitely less fake and manufactured than in all the years since. Or, all right, there were a couple of later moments when that hope may have been ever so slightly justified, but just those moments, and not that much, and the last of them several years ago. And even without all of that, just remembering something that may mark the end of something means that something existed in the first place and I need these confirmations that I didn’t just imagine it all more and more. Have been needing them since shortly after I got thrown back here.
So here I am, writing this while feeling that even the suspended animation I was in before is now in suspended animation as well due to the current computer situation, since I’m still on the old one and on Mint. Yet another situation proving that things keep getting worse but that I’m starting to consider partially tolerable as long as I don’t really do anything, frozen between the desperate hope that it at least won’t get even worse yet again and the fear that it will, as it always happens.
And there’s also the fact that not even the night is in any way my time anymore for quite a while now, with dad staying up so late as well, a couple of times even going to bed after me, and at times hearing her talking on the phone very late as well… So much for what I was saying in the very first post I wrote when I decided to try to start to write something while living with Andra.
Thinking of that now gets me to a mental image of what was so common during our nights together, with me at the computer long after she went to sleep, but still so close since the bed was right behind me and I kept turning to look at her. And, yes, the other things mentioned in that post as well, the sounds of the night, glancing outside, now and then even going out on the balcony for a quick better look… None of that has been possible in so long, the part having to do with her not at all for all these eleven years and the rest not in anything even remotely resembling the same way since I got thrown back here, and lately even less than what it may have been so far, so pretty much not at all either.

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