Somewhere, June 16th
Dear Spencer,
It's been a few days since I've last written you and I couldn't hold out any longer. You've called me a couple of more times but I hope you understand that I'm just not capable of picking up and talking to you right now. As much as I'm dying to hear the sound of your voice, I'm just not there yet. I truly hope that you're doing somewhat alright under the circumstances and that you're slowly returning back to your old life. Although I know that things will never be the same again, there will be a day when you'll wake up and continue to live. You'll cry, you'll grieve, you'll hurt but in the end you'll start living again. You'll be the teenager with bright dreams and vibrant hopes, the oneyou were not so long ago. Because the ones you've lost … The ones that left you too soon, would want you to live. They would want you to smile and succeed and fall in love and do all the things you're supposed to do. Because it is only then that they'll have a chance to live too. Live through your happiness, through your hopes, through your future.
It takes time, it does. But eventually it comes. You'll never be able to forget, although you will pretend once and awhile for your sake and for the ones surrounding you. But in the end, it's all still stored in your heart. But that's okay. Because life isn't just about smiles and bliss and continuous joy. It's also about tears and sorrow and pain that just doesn't seem to soften. And those experienced emotions, is what makes you 'you'. It shapes your beliefs and uncertainties, the smiles you'll make and the tears you'll shed. All the things that happened in your past, good and bad, are the things that'll form your future. And it's up to you to develop the negative into a positive picture. I have absolutely no doubt that you can do that. Because you're the strongest and bravest person I've ever met, Spencer. You never run away from your problems, you face them. I've watched you overcome every single difficulty on your own. Some with a little more effort than the others, but in the end you always prevailed. And you always have some fight, some strength left for the ones you care about. I can do nothing but admire that. I look so much up to you, Spencer. Because one day I hope I can be half as strong and brave as you.
You might be wondering why I put up Somewhere as my location instead of the usual Paris. Well, one explanation would be that I'm no longer in Paris. After spending more than a week locked up in my hotelroom I came to the conclusion that I might as well leave. It just didn't feel right to stay there anymore. I am planning to go back though. Well, I hope so anyway. Because there would only be one reason for me to return and you already know which one it is. I told Kyla I was leaving, and she was worried as hell to let me go but understood anyway. She's been good to me, Spencer. She's come to know who I am these last couple of months and I think that she finally gets me. And I finally get her. It's just … I'm glad I have her, you know. I don't know if we're ever going to be one of those inseparable sisters that share and do everything together, or if I even want too. But just the thought that I know she'll be there for me no matter what, soothes my mind a little. She's filling this void in me, even if it's just a little bit. You already know the person that fills it almost completely with ease.
I didn't bother to tell mom. She has actually acted somewhat motherly to me the first few days, which shocked me more than ever. I'm pretty sure she's gonna be pissed when she discovers that I just up and left. Although she didn't bother to even visit me in my room these last few days. I guess things are more interesting in her suite with Jean whatever-his-last-name is.
Anyway, I wrote Somewhere because I don't really know where I am. I do know where I'm going, though. For now at least. I'm thinking about making some temporary trips here and there. My first stop is going to be Brussels. You're probably wondering why the hell I'm going to this random city and I guess I wouldn't really know how to answer that. The only thing I know about that city is that their sprouts want to make me puke, but that their chocolate is orgasmic. Oh and, according to dad they have the best beer in the world. I don't really know why I'm going there in the first place. Maybe I just want to go because it was the first name that I read when I entered the station. Maybe I want to see for myself what's so great about this city, so greatthat it made dad break his promise to attend my 10th birthday so he could launch his first worldtour in it. Or maybe I was just, you know, craving some fresh waffles.
I'm traveling by train by the way. I don't know if I ever told you, but I've never done that before. Like you already know, I always travel by car and if the distance is too long than I'm hopping on the first plane there is. I don't know the meaning of hiking or cycling or in this case taking a train. I have never seemed being able to grasp the happiness and comfort in the little things. I'm 18 and before today I've never ridden a train. And I can't help but look outside and see all these different sceneries pass by, and wonder why I could never fathom traveling in one. Everything about it is so peaceful. It's not about first-class seats and exquisite champagne and personal DVD-screens. It's about cramped spaces with obnoxiously loud children and lukewarm coke. It's about the beautiful scenery that passes by your eyes, while lettingthe rhythmic sound of the wheels hitting the rail jointsunconsciously lullabying you into a comfortable sleep. All my life I've been seeking for the big and the exclusive. Or at least I thinkthat's what I've been after. But the big and the exclusive are only present in the little things.
My dad thought that buying me the most expensive gifts would largely make up for his lack of presence. He thought that giving me something that was valued so much in the material world would trump his presence, no matter how short, in the real world. He loved me. He knew that I was aware of it and he'd give these ridiculously pricey presents, thinking it would remind me of his love in case I forgot. And he thought that it was enough. But it wasn't. I didn't care that everyone envied what I had materially, because I envied them even more for what they had emotionally. And I hated him for it. I hated that he loved me and cared about me, but that it wasn't enough for him to take some time and actually show it to me. I hate it even more that I'm becoming that person. The person who claims that loves and cares and has a big heart but doesn't follow it up with genuine actions. I hate that I think I can make up for stupid mistakes, no matter how small they are in my eyes, with gifts and broken promises. I hate that I take the few good things I have for granted. And I hate that I thought that you would fall for it and always be there for me no matter what I did. What I hate the most though is that after everything I've done, I'm the one who's running away and you're the one who's searching for me.
Sometimes I don't understand you, Spencer. After everything I did and didn't do, you still don't give up on me. There are so many people in my life that left me for lesser. But you never fail me. And sometimes I wish you would disappoint me. Just so it could give me a somewhat valuable explanation, an overused excuse for my behavior towards you. Because right now I don't have one. Other than the fact that, yes, I might be dysfunctional and yes I might be afraid to commit because of my history. But all of that fades when it comes to the prospect of having you in my life. You've given all of yourselfto me and practically sacrificed your family to be with me and I didn't treasureit enough. I took you for granted as if people like you come along every single day.
Right now I am Somewhere. And I'm not just talking about me being in this train that is traveling through these unknown regions of a country I've only heard about through others. I am Somewhere, because I can't place myself in any place in my life right now. I do not know where I am, because frankly anywhere I am without you is not worth being at. And I'm aware of that, because before you came along I was Nowhere. I didn't have to privilege to be Somewhere or the prospect of going to a place where I want to be for the rest of my life. But even though I'm not where I want to be now, I can at least say I have a destination in front of my eyes. I have an image of where I want to be and whereto I want to travel. My whole journey no matter how hard and how long it will take will be worth it, just because of that destination. Because the place I am traveling to is filled with handholding walks and sunset kisses. It's filled with meaningless fights, but meaningful make-ups. It's filled with promises that are being made, but also kept. It's filled with you and me settling because we've finally figured it out.
My destination is you, Spence.
Wait for me to find it.
Yours truly,
A.D.
It's three in the morning on a schoolnight and I haven't even bothered telling anyone at home where I am . I don't really know what brought me to this exact place, at this exact time. I don't know what dragged me here after reading that letter today. I don't even know if I can go through with reading the rest of them, because I'm afraid of the emotions and feelings they ignite. I do know that I've experienced many memorable moments here and that I couldn't bring myself to come back for a very long time. Memories can be so precious in one's life, but that doesn't make reminiscing any less hurtful. When you think about all the good that's ever happened in your life, it's supposed to make you feel better. It's supposed to cheer you up, and instantly make you forget about the bad day you were having. But what happens when a bad day becomes a bad week, a bad month, a bad year? What happens when those memories only bring you down more, because they're so damn bittersweet? They just remind you of the good times. Of the times you'd smile so effortlessly and how strenuous it is to muster up a smile now. They only take you back to what once was and make you realize painfully what is now. Her letters are a bundled book of those bittersweet memories. I have the choice to either ignore those memories and continue to live my life , forget about the past and try to shape a new layer of recollections. Or I can choose to remind myself of them and what they meant and still mean. I can make myself face that part of my life and compare it to this one. Because I will never be able to move on to the next stage of my being, if I do not. Just like she said; it's my past, that will shape my future.
But doesn't she realize that the most significant part of my past is formed by her? So how can I shape my future, our future as she claims, when she isn't even with me? Doesn't she know that it hurts so much to talk about her as a part of my past and not my present? She says that she hates that she has become the person who claims that loves and cares but never backs it up, but I hate that I still can not let her go. I hate that I miss Clay so much and can't seem to stop grieving when others have already moved on. I hate that I feel that I lost more of her than him that night, because his departure was not by choice. I hate that just thinking about her makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up as if she was present. I hate how the sand beneath my palms and the waves before my eyes, make it feel as if she's right here. Above all, I hate that I don't mind still loving her.
And when I feel a jacket with an all-too-familiar scent placed on my chilled shoulders, I don't even have the time to turn around before I register that voice.
"You waited for me."