Ode to Joy VI: From Blue Skies

365 texts love an ode to joy

Goal of the day: 145 words. Written: 570.

And then there is an end. Relationships that were born so unexpectedly fall apart, rust and decay. But sometimes, even This is Aware, mes we try to keep them until the end.

This letter is the last letter to the girl I loved. To the girl with the bright hairstyle. To a girl who travelled a lot, talked about herself, didn't listen to me and was sometimes nice and sometimes not so nice. Now I don't know why I loved her. But I felt it.

Eleven months after dating, one month before breaking up: 5 June 2014.

I haven't seen you for five days and I feel like I haven't seen you for five weeks.

At the moment, you are probably somewhere between Berlin and Amsterdam, and I am somewhere between anger and love for you.

Why I am angry, I will leave for another time when you come back and we meet face to face.

I'd rather tell you why I love.

Do you know how you resemble the tits and finches that watch me from the window of my room?

Here's how:

1) Both finches and plovers have quills. And they are coloured. Are you coloured and have a fly? Yes, you do.

Sometimes I think that it has similarities not only with those two birds, but also with the guinea fowl that used to fly under my windows a year ago. Or the strange, colourful birds that I once saw for a moment before they flew away, presumably seeing my reflection in the window.

Sometimes I also think (well, okay, just a moment ago was the first and only time) that I must be very attracted to coloured birds. I saw a parrot in a palm tree in Portugal for a reason. Although they don't seem to live there.

2) All these birds rarely appear at my window. And most of the time, they are either foraging nearby, on the other side of the house, or spending time in warmer climes.

Did you know that storks fly to Israel for their winter holidays? And gulls sometimes travel as far as India and Morocco?

Like birds, you spend most of our interactions in warm countries. The coldest place you are in, in fact, is Lithuania, Varėna, your birthplace, where you occasionally return to feed the baby Juvintos or to make fun of a fat cat that hasn't caught you for a long time.

Like a kingfisher or a finch, you sometimes come to me (or I come to the woods and the garden looking for you), smile, hop from branch to branch, sing Beyoncé's new song "All the single tails", eat one more of them (only fattier, sweeter, saltier or hotter), but then fly back again, wherever the winds carry you.

As for the winds, they carry you quite well. I would say even more than I would like.

In the spring I had a dream. I said to myself, "Well, Daniel, now you've learnt and in the summer you can be with Mileta every day. A week with you, a week with her, a week on the road, three days at the seaside with the two of you, four days at a festival, and another fifteen days if you choose".

I wish I had known then what nonsense I was dreaming.

It's almost mid-summer and we haven't been together for a few days. Not counting Riga. And it seems that we will hardly see each other for another month.

And I was dreaming about your birthday and what a party I would give you.
And I was dreaming about our anniversary and what novel I would write for you.

Damn it. A whole month on the road. And the rest of the time, you're too tired to socialize.

Oh, I feel that I have gone from love to why I am angry. It turns out that it is true what they say: there is only one small step between love and hate.

That's probably why I can never fully love you. Just as I can't be fully angry with you. I often want to be angry, but I love you too much. I often want to love you, but I am too angry.

Well, that's about it. Ai lav jū, Mileta. And you know it. And I know that I know.

Mileta, whatever bird you are - a kingfisher, a lapwing, a stork, a peacock or a penguin - come and see me. Because I miss you. I even put out a plate of crumbs, halva and chocolate, did you know?


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