Hey! I am trying to sound exciting, to be the girl you know, the girl I thought you would like to change your life, but I’m not really feeling like that right now. Want to know a secret? When you asked me on that date at the Christmas Market I bought a mini vodka bottle and mixed it with Sprite before I came. I was too stressed to meet you. You know, the first time we saw each other I wasn’t exactly myself. But when we woke up after our almost-one-night-stand that early November morning, you still held me in your arms and made having some self confidence seem like the easiest thing in the world. I told you then: We’re never gonna see each other again. But we did, we did you know, because you wrote me. That same afternoon you wrote me asking me how I felt since I’m a newbie on the drinking side and worrying about my monday classes. So this got into a ritual, a thing. I especially liked writing to you on the weekends. Back home with your family you seemed more calm, and sometimes our Sunday night conversation would be followed up by a lovely Monday morning text. I thought of you and only you. The third time we met was not so special. We were at a party again, the same fraternity and I got mad that you didn’t recognize me when our eyes met, so later on I treated you like you didn’t deserve. But hey, we got through that, remember? Remember how you said “see ya next year” after you were so tired of your christmas shopping and my flight was leaving soon so we couldn’t meet one last time. What happened to us Eike? I know I’m overly-dramatic, with an enormous need for affection, but without any type of closure it just doesn’t feel right. Today while walking, trying to get my mind off you, for the first time I wished you hadn’t texted me that day, I wished I hadn’t heard you laughing saying that you love your area’s dialect while you lit yourself a cigarette, and I wish we hadn’t talked about math and science and I wished you hadn’t held onto me that morning; I wished you had left.
I hope I’ll feel better. Please don’t write to me again, unless you really want to meet me; please dont write me when you’re drunk on the way to your next party; please leave me, my body, mind, memories.
Oh, Eike. Want to know another secret? You were also the second person I ever kissed. The first one was a drunktard at the party that same night. All things said, I am very glad that it was you who brought me home that night and not him. Bye ‘sup’ boy. It was fun.