I have left in the meantime. I did everything not to leave. But that’s all that was left to do. What we just said is just what we said. What we said was just. Just, we said what we said feeling that the other was unjust. This turned what just we said into justice. What could have been an argument became jurisdiction. What could have been a spleen became a crime, incidence became accidence. What had been a wooden door five minutes earlier turned into an executive board, a slam into execution. What we just said is just what we said. But I believe it is fair to state that it was not what we said that stayed. I do not know if where you went is the place you said you were going to go. I do not know whether you went to leave or merely left to go. You said there was nothing left to leave but you still went for going. I have stayed behind, waiting, lurking around a bit, scribing these words into the wooden door. But right, know, while doing so, now, I can not stand staying any more. What had been our shared flat turned into a flat share. It can not keep me from moving any more as I move towards keeping some dignity. If you should actually return and read this door, there are some chick peas left in the fridge waiting to be eaten. Maybe it is me chickening out but there is no peace left waiting for me but somewhere out there in the cold. Where there is nothing to be found but a place to get lost. No repetition will ever reproduce the same. What I had to realize is that we just said what we said. But it would not be just to say that it is just about what we said. Justice can not substitute trust. Just saying.
Written for the LitUp! Letters, Emails, What’s Up?, November 2015.