“Au milieu de l’hiver, j’ai découvert en moi un invincible été.”
(“In the midst of winter, I found there was within me an invincible summer”)
– Albert Camus
I could spend the rest of my life being angry at the world. It would be easy. Take away the most important person in someone’s life and watch them fall apart. It would be very easy to grow into thinking there’s no use for anything. That there is no such thing as right or wrong and that no one gets what they deserve. That good people are rare and power is always in the wrong hands. That everybody only thinks about themselves. That the best thing that could happen to our planet is for the human race to go extinct.
And maybe all this is true. Well, it probably is. I am not going to lie. I was never very good at it. But perhaps there is hope.
I was never very proud of myself. I have lived my entire life in fear. Fear of failure, fear of falling, fear of never getting what I want, fear of getting what I want and hating it. Fear of walking the streets alone, fear of being too different, fear of being hurt, hated, misunderstood. Fear of saying too much or – in my case – rather too little. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of not deserving anything worth living for. Fear of death. Fear of living. Because of this, I have lived most of my life inside my mind, inside my heart, which was mostly closed. My eyes, too.
Loving Christophe may have been the first thing in my life that ever felt right. That I did right. Meeting Christophe was imminent. I never questioned it. It was destiny. Truth. Love. Things that I was never sure of actually existed. Things that in a just world, never should have been mine. Me, a coward. But they happened. They made me a better person. And even though my heart, my dreams and my destiny have been shattered, I am not broken. Somehow all those little pieces are still holding on to each other, and are making it work. I can still love. I still dream. I still hope. Maybe more.
I am less afraid. Because it doesn’t matter. Because everything matters. Because people need to make other people’s life more bearable, not the opposite. We are all alone. None of us is alone. Not even this strange person writing this to you. I believe in the power of words, you know. If it weren’t for Bukowski, Thoreau, Camus, Nin and all those strangers and friends who have written to me, I might not be sitting here writing this right now. And you would never be reading this. And maybe it’s not important that you read this. Mere words. My mere world.
Perhaps I will never know love like that again. Nobody expects to be struck by lightening twice. Whatever happens, I accept my destiny. I accept the wonky crooked path that was designed for my feet only. And if I am to walk that path alone, I will. And if at some point I get lost, that will be okay too. Because in the end, I am only human. And that is all that can truly be expected of me.
But I’ve never been really good at doing what is expected. A crooked path for crooked feet. Guided by a single beat.
The beating of a heart.
And I wish for you the same.