If I could say anything

Its a relatively hot day in the city. We are driving out of town, well sort of. The airport is still kilometres to go when the weather begins to change as it so frequently does in Namibia. I am sitting right next to you, by the window. The grass is a dark green round this time of year and it starts to billow in the wind, churning my memories.

I have imagined this day time and time again. Not so much the day but what I would say to you, the last thing I would say to you. You are chatting animatedly to the driver. In the background of my thoughts your deep manly laugh comes through. You glance towards me from time to time and I give you a shrug and a weak smile everytime I catch you.

As I watch you unloading your bags and thanking the driver, whom by now you are fast friends with, I think you beautiful. But then again you always looked good in a white T. My hands ache to touch your face and playfully caress your ill begotten stubble. I frame you in your "I am Legend" pose, suitcase in hand off to take on a brand new world which I am sure will have its own fair share of zombies.

I guess the first thing I would always remember was the stargazing. I do not think I knew then that I was a serial monogomist or that I would be so unforgiving when it came to wasting my own time. I always thought I was so smart with my head up in the sky, thinking that I had some divine connection with the universe that no one else knew about. In one instance I was always right though, I was special and deserving of all that the world could offer, except that the world did not offer me you. Another would come to teach me this.

The more time I spent fancying myself in love, the more I couldnt help but to try and make it true, there was no other reason other than the fact that I wanted it to be so. I was a part of your world where you could go and think, you were an instrument of my own destruction. These are the primary coloured memories, the inbetweens were secondary but in many ways more real, so it hurt sometimes being rejected.

Loving you was a mine field of small tragedies. I heard you, but rarely listened. Always at your feet, covered in every mistake a girl could make when it came to you. I wished you unhappiness with the same breath that praised you for your greatness in other areas of your life.

*

We are sitting at one of those airport cafes, well the only one in this airport. I am having hot chocolate, it has started to drizzle outside, reminding me of every John Mayer song ever written. This is a tiny infnity and love is really nothing but a dream that keeps waking me. You are asking me personal questions and I am non chalantly waving them off, perhaps repeating to you my mantra of how freeing it is to have everything undefined. You laugh at a joke I make and I relish the sound of it, almost as if it were the first time that I have ever heard you laugh. I have to stop myself from looking at you and seeing my failure, my blatant stupidity. I cannot even tell who or what did more damage, my self perpetuated lies or your supposed honesty.

My first time is the second thing that comes to mind. I was at the height of my delusion. I remember describing it as almost clinical. I honestly don't know what I was thinking, it must have been one of those mid life crisis...crises. I have often thought that if I was good for you in any way at the end then maybe you would have missed me in the way that I wanted you to. Most of those last years were empty and I cannot remember one single memory that was noteworthy. For someone to whom even little things mean everything, that meant the end of something equal in width and breadth to a universe.

You look across the table at me and I wonder why it is that I cannot recall what it feels like to kiss you and then I realise that its because it never happened quite the way it should have. You are nice, but forgettable. Except that for me you are like the first draft of a piece of good writing, I always want to keep you, just for sentimental value.But who wants to hear that about themselves. I look back at you but don't say anything.

I have come to realise that what we were always depended on what I wanted us to be. You acted as a canvas and I the paint. You never encouraged me, but then again you didn't discourage me either. You were just not that into me. If I said I didnt remember the happiness before then its best to add that I didnt remember the unhappiness either. You represented exactly how I dealt with life, stood majestic like its avatar. Everything I feared, everything I wanted.

*

Its boarding time, the announcement is made and all signal lights (non exitent at this airport) are on. We sit in silence for a few seconds and then hastily ascend. I remind you not to forget your carry-on and as you reach for it grab you with the intended ferocity of bear into my arms. At first it's awkward but then as you adjust yourself into it, its warm and hollow all at the same time. I remember the first time you told me you loved me in the exact same way, our last dinner in the empty restuarant, that last walk through town and how all communication had led up to this.

I dont know how long it lasts or how it ends. I am sending you a long message on your phone that you will never get. I didn't say anything I wanted to say. Nothing stood out. I didn't tell you about my life because I figured you were not interested.I am sorry you didn't get to have the best of me and that I saw so little of the best of you. Sorry that you were not a true event in my life as everyone should be that passes through it. You are not any less extaordinary than I made you out to be, sometimes less noble, less principaled but always a beautiful thing to watch in progress. I am thankful for anything good that I did and hope that your dreams blossom into all that you have ever wanted them to.

*

Its the day that you are leaving and I have been chatting to you days prior trying to find the right time, the perfect time to resolve all the unresolved issues of my seeming to crawl back into your life. I have been failing at it. Your phone is unreachable. I am at the office and for what seems like forever I sit and think through how I could have at least said goodbye. A moment passes and I see a plane outside my window and just barely manage to resist the urge to wave.I make a note to write all about it when I find the time but instantly realise what an impossible notion this is and immediately sit down to write down what I could have said, if I could have said anything at all.