“We are not young any more. We don’t want to take the world by storm. We are fleeing. We fly from ourselves. From our life. We were eighteen and had begun to love life and the world; and we had to shoot it to pieces.”
I used to make long speeches to you after you left. I used to talk to you all the time, even though I was alone. I walked around for months talking to you. Now I don’t know what to say. It was easier when I just imagined you. I even imagined you talking back to me. We’d have long conversations, the two of us. It was almost like you were there. I could hear you, I could see you, smell you. Sometimes your voice would wake me up. It would wake me up in the middle of the night, just like you were in the room with me. Then… it slowly faded. I couldn’t picture you anymore.
I tried to talk out loud to you like I used to, but there was nothing there but an empty glass of wine staring at me.
Then… I just gave it up. Everything stopped. You just… disappeared. And now I’m working here. I hear your voice all the time. Every man has your voice.