something changed
2003-07-21 || 9:27 a.m.

A long time ago, before I was perpetually innundated with spam, I would sign onto my email and see the little red sentence '1 unread message' and I would know exactly who it would be from because I only wrote to one person.

Sometimes I would read it straight away, especially if it had been a couple of weeks since I had heard from him. Sometimes I would save it for later in the day, something to look forward to.

I would read it through quickly to start with, scanning through it, hoping for anything small and personal, because we tended to have political and philosophical conversations but it was the little tiny personal bits that I most hoped for. I really, really liked him and his words kept us connected.

And then in my head I would begin to plan out my reply. I would think about it for a few days and it would gradually begin to take form. It seemed so very important to me that it had to be somehow right. I always sensed how important he was right from the very beginning.

And I felt we communicated in other less physical ways too. I just seemed to know things. Knowing him was timeless. I had no choice over it whatsoever. And so I knew when he couldn't write anymore. I said so to Bex and I wrote it in my other place. My other place. Where I dig deep down and leave nothing out.

Eventually he confirmed it. A short message - I'm sorry, I can't write at the moment. I replied. Its fine, its okay, I only want you to be happy and well, of course I want to hear from you but if it helps you not to write, then that's fine.

But of course my heart was beginning to break.

Somehow I always knew things would move on, things would change but I also knew it would be initiated by him. So I had to wait. I had found him, now I had to wait to see what he was going to do about it. And eventually he said things to me that I wanted to hear. But then he had to leave. Spookily he said the exact same sentence to me that someone else said last summer. The difference of course was that he meant it. This is not the end. He said. And it wasn't.

And then he was back, unexpectedly. And I was spoilt again. He was there whenever I needed him. We could talk and talk and we were both happy. But we knew there was a time limit. And time being a bastard was very soon up and he had to leave again.

And he has told me to be patient and he has told me the day will come when we will be together. But it hurts so much not to talk to him, not to hear from him and not to know he is okay. It's a physical pain that feels like my very insides are being burnt out.

And it started the morning he left.

And so now when I sign into my email and I see anything from 3 unread messages to 12 unread messages I know the majority will be spam. There won't be that 1 unread message from him.

And all of this is the same for him as it is for me and so really I don't need to write it down but words like these were the only way we could be found.