I've reached the lowest point of my life. It's funny - not like a joke funny, but funny if you distance yourself from it - that he would have such a strong hold on me even now, even after all this time. A lot has changed since his death, period. Especially the way I see my body and all bodies in general. The body, it seems, is so fragile, so easy to destroy. The body you - or I - live in, the body we all have to trust is a fragile entity. Sometimes, it is not even an entity as such, it's just a combination of various functioning parts. It's a whole of different parts that don't always click together. The body, this vehicle you use to carry your precious self on is not to be trusted. After all, you can always happen to fall, there are so many invisible threats waiting to attack this body of yours, or people who would like to harm you, it might be one of those days when you forget to take your important medication, there are so many things that can simply go wrong. You can never allow yourself to forget that your body can fail. As did his. Maybe because we were so close - two souls always counting on each other, yet always being so distant from each other - maybe that's why his death has left me so confused, so lost. I'm afraid, with no identity, and just absent. Like a huge wave passing over my head, and the last final signpost that is still out there is his grave.

My dear, dear, darling boy, I miss you so much.

Blade runner: someone who can distinguish humans from the replicants, and act upon his knowledge. Someone who knows and is allowed to cross the lines.

How to let it go without forgetting and before it has destroyed me, I don't know. it's been a while, it's been two and a half months, the mind has got the idea but the shock is still here. I was at his funeral, I saw, there's no way I could deny.

he has such a hold on me, even after all these years. especially after all these years, and especially now.

you don't know the true capacity of your own heart unless your world is turned upside down.

Lately, I've spent a lot of time thinking about memories, remembering things and events, people, faces, colors, smells, impressions, all of what was once so important to me. after his death there are so many things - 8 (9?) years is a long time - so many memories that I just don't know where to start, what to start, how and why. I have the letters, and I have pictures, I have so much yet so little. things, memories, impressions, they will never substitute a living, breathing friend.

it's hard not to cry when you realize all that love that is around you. I have his photo on my desk, I sometimes get asked if he is my boyfriend, and the photo, it still brings me to tears.

so much love.

and now, now I'm mending my life back together, one piece at a time.

all shall pass, we ought to know that by now, but till then.. well, it's a mess till then. I'm a mess. and unfortunately, healing is not an active process, it's a process where you are simply waiting, filling your days with something else, constantly distracting yourself and not letting yourself to get even more hurt, even more cut to pieces. mend, not break. heal, not hurt. let time work wonders, and just relax. they say it all shall pass.

the world is such a lonely place, after all.

- what language do you think in?

- (after a long pause) I honestly don't know.

Lines written during the period of half-asleep

I salute you, our sleepless nights. I salute you, big moon, you orange face in the formless sky, you muse of insomniacs and dreamers. I salute you, dreams and frustrations and unfulfilled hopes and sad life stories. I salute you, empty fridge and empty bed. I salute you, meaningless talks and time-wasting entertainments. I salute you, cancelled plans, used plane tickets, missed trams and buses, cold winter coats and angry dogs. I salute you, fresh skin, light cotton, summer sunglasses and cocktail straws. I salute you, moving boxes and dirt and broken suitcases. I salute you, missed phone calls, unsent text messages and wrong addresses. I salute you, broken hearts and missed chances. I salute you, my youth.

Cinema in its very core is already a collective experience. Collective dream, as it is often called. Even though in the age of individual film watching, we still regard going to the movies as something special. As an event than needs special treatment. Cinema, it its very, very core is an event. A happening. Once in a lifetime experience.