That place with the red door...

I think today has been the saddest day I've had in months. It almost feels like I've lost a person, a dear friend that I've grown used to it embracing me and protecting me whenever this world decides to show me it's ugly side.

Seven months ago, I walked a friend to her college. As I was walking back to mine, I stopped informs of the flat's red door and without thinking, and with the moment totally taking over my mind, I sat on the steps of this beautiful flat and let the tears flow. I didn't know why and I didn't know how. I let my guard down and allowed this planet and it's inhabitants to see my tears as they walked by, concerned with this girl whose hands were trembling as she tried to light a cigarette and wipe her tears, all at the same time. As I winced with pain and the feeling of inadequacy, I could feel arms around me. They weren't real, but they were enough to help me find that warmth I've been searching for. Not long after, I heard my friend's voice calling my name from across the street... I must've lost consciousness because her voice was distant for someone standing so close. I stood up almost in shame and wiped whatever was left of my tears. I let my lips move and do all the talking and realized how numb my brain was while I heard myself speak.

I walked into her flat and I was greeted with that familiar smell of bukhoor and memories. I remember resting my head on her pillow and saying good-bye to the world - at least temporarily. When I woke up a few hours later, everything felt different... And a smile finally stretched on my face as I glanced over the table and saw a note with her handwriting on it... I got up and made myself some tea. I allowed myself to linger in that space of time and thought about all those obstacles life insists on throwing at me. I don't know what it was, or if it was a miracle of some sort (yeah, yeah it is possible you know), but for some reason, everything made sense after that day.

I tried avoiding that place for a few days, but something kept pulling me towards it. I gave up and figured maybe I needed to feel this, for it to wake me up a little just in case my inner emotions decides to hibernate for good (is that even a possibility?). As soon as I walked in, it struck me how empty the flat was and I could instantly feel myself being attacked by that horrible monster called "sadness." I tried to shake it, tried to fight it, felt like screaming for it to go away and leave me alone, but nothing worked... I lit a cigarette and sat by the window. I looked out and remembered the sea of people that walked past it and how I used to smile down at them or yell out nonsense... I remembered how my friends used to prank me and I'd come running to the window thinking I'd see someone I know... I remembered how I'd sit there and complain about all sorts of things, and there was always someone there to listen... Or to put an arm around me and tell me it's okay to mess up, and that won't make me a loser and that no one is going to like me any less...

the breakfasts (puck cheese!), lunches, dinners, gatherings, the newspaper we'd arrange on the floor to have our meals on, the window that over-looked the pub, the tea and coffees, smiles, laughter, even the words spoken, and people that came in and out, the angel slices (mmm... Tastes like unicorns! Tastes just like angels(?!)), the warmth, comfort, stopping over just to get the assurance you needed before meeting that special someone, the fact that I could literally run to that place when it got a little difficult to deal with the world, the love (and oh there was plenty of it), the Moroccan cafe, all the fun we had experimenting with food (in a non-sexual way of course), the smell, the jokes, the way it felt to sit on those white sofas and fuck all, the times we'd study for exams, the reassurance, the beauty of it all... The memories... memories... memories...

Life is strange. I thought I could do this, but I already miss that place and I didn't even live there! It was my second home... The place that offered me so much, and gave me the best memories anyone could ever ask for. Now she's moved away, to a better place for sure, and I know that there'll be more memories to be made because if we ever decide to stop making them, she won't let us... She just won't...

Here's to Candover street...