A Good Talk

Despite it's age and former extreme popularity, I rather liked Celine Dion's My Heart Will Go On, so I couldn't resist when I saw the Titanic soundtrack on sale for pennies at the outlet mall. I watched the sunset out my window today, eating raspberry yoghurt and listening to the song. As always to my overly analysis driven mind the lyrics seemed filled with parallels, although they often flew sideways at the original meaning of the words.

Every night in my dreams
I see you, I feel you,
That is how I know you go on
Far across the distance
And spaces between us
You have come to show you go on
Near, far, wherever you are
I believe that the heart does go on
Once more you open the door
And youre here in my heart
And my heart will go on and on

And then I thought - it's been two months since I had a rather important talk with a good friend of mine, and I haven't written a word about it. To severely paraphrase a rambling discussion that tumbled in and out of seriousness for the better part of three hours, and to occasionally fill in the gaps between the lines myself, Stian told me that the happiest days of his life were when we were going out together, and that afterwards he had sometimes regretted the split, but that he didn't want to go back to those times either, mostly because he couldn't.

He has few emotions at all nowadays, even moving past the depression he had off and on for years, partly due to his relative lack of other emotional responses. He's cold, calculated, logical... he told me this himself. It's not surprising either, he told me, everyone on his dad's side of the family is like that. It's a dominant trait, he fears. And that's why, though he'd always wanted children, he recently decided that he doesn't want to give children that. He wants it to stop with him. It made him sad at first, he said, but then he stopped caring.

Then he told me about his parents, and I began to understand. His mother has tried to leave his father before, frustrated by his insensitivity. But she finds that she can't live with him or without him. She always comes back. I knew that part of this was true, and something began to change. Seeing a similar situation from the outside, the answer seems obvious. It so often does. And at last I understood why he always thought it was a poor match, that I had the worse deal, though few would think so from a distance.

I... still wish him well in every regard. He's still brilliant, and genuinely good. I'll be happy to hear that he's happy, when he manages it. I still dream of him at times, but I no longer wake up with regret. For two months now, I've felt free as a bird.

He didn't have to tell me any of these things, but he chose to. He came to me voluntarily and became 'nothing more than a lovely memory', as I've always wanted. And for that I love him, one last time.

Såååå.... Ha det på badet, din gamle sjokolade! ;)