I realize it’s terribly tough and stupid to write about love. I’m alone now, and I want to have you next to me. I want to pull you beside me and slide and squeeze my legs between yours, while you’re sleeping peacefully. But this can never happen; as usual, you go to sleep much later than I do… why can’t you sleep?
I’m yearning to tell you, I love you so much. You are the woman, which I have always dreamt to meet. Not like some fuzzy idea… because I had never thought that the weird girl you are would ever make me fall in love with her. So far it all sounds pretty trite, I know, but you, too, know I’m no fucking writer.
Last night, was the last time when I bit my nails. Now I pledge myself, my soul, and honour to you – I shall do my best to never ever do it again. Never ever! Because you want me to be a stable man (what’s biting one’s nail to do with stability?!) and I know for sure that I want you to be happy more than anything else in the world.
Two more days and you’re coming back to me! (pause, to take a breath and relief the tension). I’m getting used to sleeping on my own – alone – but again, I dream of the warmth of your body, rather – of the whole of you.
I can think of the moments when you pee while I’m in the bathroom too. You love to do this. You always do it, when I’m shaving and you think you can’t impress me. But you might have well noticed the pleased smile, watching you from the mirror from under the muzzle smeared in foam. The ripple of your pee is like a Buddhist mantra – it soothes me and fills me with a naïve childish bliss – that you should share something tremendously personal with me. As if you’ve shown me your doll’s house, which you so diligently took care of when you were ten.
I don’t know what love is, or what it looks like. Some say it’s pink, others – red; mine is wee bit different. It is lying on the beach, caressing your hair full of sand (because you love to dive to the bottom and plough it with your head), it is well fed, dozing in front of the TV set, or playing at the last version of Call of Duty, it is just a bit silly and irrational, a bit scared that you might abandon it like a poor kitten after great sex… it even hates you a bit, just a little, sometimes, when it’s fed up with behaving. Or something of the sort …