Disclaimer: I don“t own it, just borrowing! The same goes for the title!
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Far Away So Close
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At night I cannot escape my thoughts. I no longer only dwell in happy, untroubled dreams, but often am haunted by memories.
On certain days, I feel a longing which strongly resembles the one I have known before I have set sail, the sea-longing. But this one is different nevertheless, for I know it will never be fulfilled, never be eased. It leaves me restless, uneasy, and most of all, aggrieved.
I would never have imagined it to be like this; a long time ago, when these present days were still far in the future and hardly conceivable, I thought it would be bearable. I was convinced that somehow I would be able to fondly remember those past times and let those memories carry me through lonely days.
How very wrong I have been.
It is not sweet nostalgia that keeps saddening my heart, but a deep sense of loss, the yearning for a friend so close to my heart that he has left it empty and bereft of any means of compensation when he died.
I miss him like I have never missed anyone before; he will forever be with me, but that is not enough. I anxiously guard my memories, afraid that I might forget the details which were him: the sound of his voice, his laugh, the way he walked.
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I cannot allow nightmares to mutilate these imagines, and that is what haunts me: I dream of him, and sometimes these dreams are just wrong, distorting what I treasure. Sometimes he calls out to me, and when I wake up, he is gone before I have stopped looking for him, because I always hope that this time, he might have come back to me, as impossible as I know it is. I am aware that I am not the only one who craves his presence, who wishes to be able to turn back time; I cannot but be selfish nevertheless.
I wish I could talk to him again, feel his presence; we often talked about the day which would finally be his last. Back then it felt like we still had an eternity ahead of us. Even I, having lived for so many years that it could be counted as lifetimes, allowed myself to be deceived. And now I wonder why he did not despair at the thought of it, how he could face his eventual death with such courage. How he could even endanger himself further by living the way he lived instead of clinging to each precious minute!
He would never have thought so himself, and he would not recognize me if he could hear these words. I know it is not as simple as this, but still I wonder.
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My gaze drifts off while I am standing on the beach; I have to face that I have carried this burden for too long now.
Beyond the sea is where our past lies, and it seems that I cannot lose it anymore, now that not only time but also space are separating me from it, from him... I know that the places we have been in together are still there, as well as his successors and his final resting place.
And so is he. As long as I can believe this, I might learn to turn my nightmares into dreams and embrace those images which let him be alive again.
It is not wrong to miss someone. But one should not be afraid of it. I need to learn to separate my despair from what I have left of him; he would want me to. In my good dreams, I can overcome time and space and look him in the eyes again; in his gaze, I find the same love for me, the same closeness I have always known.
I will try to keep it in my mind for those moments of desperation which threaten to overwhelm me: our friendship remains. And there is nothing as strong.
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The End
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