The Lonely Heart
Sleep. It is the only activity that I have enjoyed these past few days. Well, sleep and reading the letter I found tucked into my pocket. I did not even realise it was there until I was on the plane, almost home and roused awake from a nap by turbulence. My coat had fallen down from around my shoulders. In the process of adjusting it, I saw the sea green paper sticking out of a pocket, the color a stark contrast against the black of my coat.
I never tire of the words I love you. At least not from him. I have in the past from others, the words used as meaningless gestures as one would say hello or good day. Yet when he speaks them, or in this case writes them down on paper as a solid declaration, I know the sincerity that lies behind those three little words. I know the look of his watery eyes as he speaks them; I know the trembling sound of his voice. These are the things I cherish, just as I do this piece of paper.
Hanna met me at the airport in Helsinki and I fell into her arms, emotional exhaustion overtaking me. The situation sinking in deeper. It is not a goodbye. And I know myself well enough to know that I cannot do goodbyes. I am too weak for goodbyes, even now when I have so much more confidence in myself. It will not be long until he is here and we will sit hand and hand on cement steps and look out over the Helsinki bay. It is a much more aesthetically pleasing place to be than here in Kouvola where you walk down the street and the sound of steel wheels over the train tracks hits your ears. Yet this is my home, it is all I have really known. Touring I have seen so much, yet rarely did we stay in one place long enough for me to gain a solid understanding of the environment. For a few years I moved to Helsinki, it made sense to be closer to the band. Yet, I always felt like a fish out of water. My friends and family back home and now my new band. The cities are not a great distance away physically, however in my mind they are worlds apart. A lot of it probably has to do with the things they represent within my own mind.
We did not see much of London while I was there. It was only a few days and there were better things to do indoors, arms to be held in. I could go on and talk about how comfortable his arms are, wrapped in flannel as my lips scrape against his stubbly chin. However, I believe doing so in great length would get me in a world of trouble… One cannot be a fashion plate all of the time, and a part of me from the depths of my soul relishes in the thought of all of the things I know, all of the things I have seen because I know they are deeply personal and for exclusive eyes and minds. I know I am in a position to be truly thankful, and I am.
Monday morning we stood at the London International Airport. Embracing, whispering, a page being turned and a new one being written. We arrived with plenty of time before my flight, yet I almost missed it as pulling myself away was a great accomplishment. I left part of my heart in London, part of my soul, the essence of who I am.
I know it is in safe hands.
Hanna comes in every hour or so with coffee or something to eat. She sits on the edge of the bed until I am curled up in her lap, soaking the fabric of her clothes with my tears. It is times like these I remember how weak I am. I remember how fragile my heart is, my emotions. Although, I much rather be fragile like I am than a piece of stone. It is awfully difficult to love a rock.
I wonder yet if he has found the things I have left for him around his flat. Secret gifts stuck in between the cushions of his sofa, the cupboards of the kitchen, the pillows on his bed. Senseless things that would probably mean nothing to anyone else. Hanna told me he called earlier while I was sleeping, my slumber too hard to even hear the ringing of the phone. I called back hours later and smiled, listening to the sound of his voice on his answering machine at the new flat. Now it is probably too late to call, I would fear that I would wake him, I know he needs his sleep for his work. The creative process is a gentle entity. It needs nurturing and care. And soon with those things, musical articles will be created, each one a masterpiece in its own right. I do not even have to hear it to know, because the melody already lives within him.
-Juska-
I never tire of the words I love you. At least not from him. I have in the past from others, the words used as meaningless gestures as one would say hello or good day. Yet when he speaks them, or in this case writes them down on paper as a solid declaration, I know the sincerity that lies behind those three little words. I know the look of his watery eyes as he speaks them; I know the trembling sound of his voice. These are the things I cherish, just as I do this piece of paper.
Hanna met me at the airport in Helsinki and I fell into her arms, emotional exhaustion overtaking me. The situation sinking in deeper. It is not a goodbye. And I know myself well enough to know that I cannot do goodbyes. I am too weak for goodbyes, even now when I have so much more confidence in myself. It will not be long until he is here and we will sit hand and hand on cement steps and look out over the Helsinki bay. It is a much more aesthetically pleasing place to be than here in Kouvola where you walk down the street and the sound of steel wheels over the train tracks hits your ears. Yet this is my home, it is all I have really known. Touring I have seen so much, yet rarely did we stay in one place long enough for me to gain a solid understanding of the environment. For a few years I moved to Helsinki, it made sense to be closer to the band. Yet, I always felt like a fish out of water. My friends and family back home and now my new band. The cities are not a great distance away physically, however in my mind they are worlds apart. A lot of it probably has to do with the things they represent within my own mind.
We did not see much of London while I was there. It was only a few days and there were better things to do indoors, arms to be held in. I could go on and talk about how comfortable his arms are, wrapped in flannel as my lips scrape against his stubbly chin. However, I believe doing so in great length would get me in a world of trouble… One cannot be a fashion plate all of the time, and a part of me from the depths of my soul relishes in the thought of all of the things I know, all of the things I have seen because I know they are deeply personal and for exclusive eyes and minds. I know I am in a position to be truly thankful, and I am.
Monday morning we stood at the London International Airport. Embracing, whispering, a page being turned and a new one being written. We arrived with plenty of time before my flight, yet I almost missed it as pulling myself away was a great accomplishment. I left part of my heart in London, part of my soul, the essence of who I am.
I know it is in safe hands.
Hanna comes in every hour or so with coffee or something to eat. She sits on the edge of the bed until I am curled up in her lap, soaking the fabric of her clothes with my tears. It is times like these I remember how weak I am. I remember how fragile my heart is, my emotions. Although, I much rather be fragile like I am than a piece of stone. It is awfully difficult to love a rock.
I wonder yet if he has found the things I have left for him around his flat. Secret gifts stuck in between the cushions of his sofa, the cupboards of the kitchen, the pillows on his bed. Senseless things that would probably mean nothing to anyone else. Hanna told me he called earlier while I was sleeping, my slumber too hard to even hear the ringing of the phone. I called back hours later and smiled, listening to the sound of his voice on his answering machine at the new flat. Now it is probably too late to call, I would fear that I would wake him, I know he needs his sleep for his work. The creative process is a gentle entity. It needs nurturing and care. And soon with those things, musical articles will be created, each one a masterpiece in its own right. I do not even have to hear it to know, because the melody already lives within him.
-Juska-