Thirty days have passed, measured in bright colours and the changing winds, and still there is no sign of him. I have yet to fully decide whether or not this is a good thing. From moment to moment my mind seems to change, and that is to say nothing of the confused mass of contradictions that my heart has become. The idea of seeing him again is one that fills me with elation even as it makes my want to scream aloud in abject terror, it makes my heart soar while at the same time it plummets like a stone.
I think too much and do not dream, but only remember. I like it here close to the sea; I can go to a small café on the water front and just sit and let the world pass me by. No one bothers me. The water is a mottled emerald green over the mosaic of sandbars, but deeps to azure further out. The blue skies seem to go on forever, peppered with small fluffy white clouds that look like smoke as they drift pass.
I can't complain about my days. It's the nights that I dread. When my thoughts creep back in to the dark crevasses of my mind, and spin their fearful webs. If left to my own destructive thoughts I find myself once more becoming the lost and frightened child or the terrified woman poised of the brink of death. But worst of all if left unchecked my thoughts always return me to the roll of abandoned lover.
Here at lest I can be out all night, surrounded by people and safe from myself. With all the dangerous and obstacles I have face and overcome it is ironic to think that the one thing that can truly hurt me is myself.
I do not want to leave, but fear that I soon must. Berlin was too close a call and he now seems to shadow me. I can't tell if it is planed or merely the whim of fate, but sooner or later wherever I go to he eventually follows. I think in spite of it all that has happened he is not convinced that I am truly gone. I think he will follow me wherever I go now, forever chasing a ghost that only wishes to stay dead.
Life with him was always good, even if not always happy. I knew that no matter what I would always be loved even if I was not always safe. I think that was what he was trying to give me, his parting gift when he left me still sleeping. But you can not make someone safe if they are not willing to be protected. It is only with hindsight that I can even begin to understand his motives for in that moment all I felt was loss and the betrayal of everything I had ever believed in. Complete and utter desolation.
In my time here I have found the closest thing I have ever known to an inner peace, but it is still not close enough. At times I feel that there is not enough peace anywhere in the world to soothe me, yet still I look. I wonder if perhaps I will only ever find peace with him even though life with him brought anything but. Perhaps it would be better to say that you can only find peace if you are whole and without him I will forever be incomplete.
I sit and watch the water and drink rum and coke and try to remember a time before all I seemed to do was run. It's so hard to recall that I find myself wondering if in fact my life has always been one non stop race that I'll never be able to win. First I ran to him, then I ran with him… the whole world was ours and it seemed as if there was nowhere we couldn't go and nothing we couldn't do. It was a golden summer haze and as always, inevitably, happens the sun eventually sets. And now I am running from him. From him and the shadow of memory that always catches me and in sleep drags me back to places I will never truly escape.
There is a reason to keep running, I know that there is. There must be. But it is so hard to remember what it is. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I simply stopped. If I just stayed here with the sun warm on my skin and watched the waves dance and waited for him to find me…
(A/N) I just spent a few days by the sea and somehow ended up writing this. Completely at odds with cannon but there's just something abut it I like so I decided to leave it as it is. Also, in case anyone wonders, 'M' either stands for Mia or Myself, not sure which.