500 years, and not a minute wiser… That’s my life all right. Did I wise up in any way? In some perhaps… But when I think about it, in all those years, the only thing I’ve truly become “good” at is loss.

The accursed thing about an island is, no matter which road you take, sooner or later you end up at some fucking shore. End of the line babe! Unless you can swim for a full month straight…

With time you recognize one thing: All them shores are the same. What seemed like a lively variety of maritime nature at first, turns out to be variations of one and only one fact: You are stuck! Stuck on that island you call life! There is nowhere to go. Every road ahead disappears into stormy oceans that you can’t hope to cross. And the road back… It’s been too long and too much dust has settled on it for you to find back onto it. And even if you could, what would you return to anyway? Back in time, there are only unfulfilled dreams, fuzzy crossroads and wrong turns.

I was supposed to live a life full of love and joy, be surrounded by friends and family, all gathered together in a cozy room filled with frisky peals of laughter, clouds of gingerbread smell, and the bluster of little feet on the floor…

Instead I’m listening to sad songs in the middle of the night, facing the decay of yet another attempt at that dream…

Play this song before you read on

Do you know that stage in a relationship when every seconds you spend together feels like a staged act, like an exercise in self-control and courtesy and meaninglessness? You yearn so much to say something about it, you think you’ll explode… Yet you don’t dare to go through that door because some part of you hopes it’s just a phase you can sit out, while another is in sheer panic that the conversation, once started, might only bring about sooner the inevitable end.

And man, how your heart still remembers its bleeding and throbbing! Those times of enchanting passion and elusive happiness! That bliss of not knowing each other yet!

And how it wishes things could go back to the way they were… Day in and day out, lamenting:

How Can I Tell You?

How can I tell you
That I love you, I love you
But I can’t think of right words to say

I long to tell you
That I’m always thinking of you
I’m always thinking of you
But my words just blow away
Just blow away

It always adds up to one thing honey
And I can’t think of right words to say

Wherever I am girl
I’m always walking with you
I’m always walking with you
But I look and you’re not there

Whoever I’m with
I’m always, always talking to you
I’m always talking to you
And I’m sad that you can’t hear
Sad that you can’t hear

It always adds up to one thing Honey
When I look and you’re not there

I need to know you
Need to feel my arms surround you
Feel my arms around you
Like a sea around a shore

And each night and day I pray
In hope that I might find you
In hope that I might find you
Because heart’s can do no more
Can do no more

It always adds up to one thing honey,
Still I kneel upon the floor

How can I tell you that I love you
I love you
But I can’t think of right words to say

I long to tell you
That I’m always thinking of you
I’m always thinking of you

It always adds up to one thing honey,
And I can’t think of right words to say

That crazy heart of yours, the one organ that so incurably suffers from selective memories, it desperately tries to reconnect to that unknown, perfect person it once fell in love with… and refuses to realize: That person can only exist in the infatuated fantasy of a stranger – a point that the two of you have long passed…

That the two of us have long passed…

And so we go on, for a little while more, a few days, a few weeks, maybe a few months… Perhaps even for the rest of our lives…

In the saddest of all human states, we share bread and bed, but none of our soul.