The "You ruin my trip" day
A page in the diary "Good mourning!"
Written by Luise 15. Jun 2007 09:02 AM
Dear friends out there,
today I thought about how lucky I am - having you to disburden my heart. Thank you. Although I'm dealing mostly with sad things, I'm almost always looking forward to writing my diary entries. Without you I would probably feel very lonesome remembering all these sad things without sharing them with someone. Thank you all for being with me in the nights when I go back to my worst and best times.
Remembering the "terrible horrible sad story" opened a door inside me. I'm crying a lot. Sometimes I even forget about what I'm crying. I miss him. I'm so sorry for us. I'm so sorry for myself. I was so brave when I was in Canada - it was the only way to survive. But I'm so sorry for the girl that had to bear these two weeks. There is so much to be sorry for. Sometimes I want to beat my head against the wall just to make the soulpain go away. It hurts so much missing that strange kid. He was not always a cruel monster.
He was always walking faster than me. He just ran away using two walking sticks - clack, clack, clack. God I remember how his back looked, disappearing in a cloud of dust. It made my heart melt. Especially his upper arms and his neck. He looked so young.
I have always been a slow walker. I love to look at every little flower. I put an effort in taking nice photos, finding all the beautiful little treasures of nature on the way. I wanted to picture the character of the whole way with my photos. I loved it. Most of my day I walked alone, and sometimes it made me angry that he was so fast. But mostly I found him waiting for me at the end of the route - with a radiant smile, his arms wide open: "Yay!!!!! Welcome!!!! You've made it!!!"
He was so proud of me.
On day in france I arrived after 33 km under the burning sun. I was soaked with sweat and had a terrible headaches caused by the heat (every route longer than 25 km was too much for me - especially in the summer heat.) He hugged me happily and proudly, and I took a shower and went straight to bed with my poor head.
When he came to pick me up for dinner an hour later he told me: "I'm gonna make another 30km day tomorrow."
I was a bit surprised - nice to know, but since when don't we plan the route together? He got upset about my demand. He didn't want to discuss. "Take it or leave it," he said. We argued the whole evening, sitting in front of a bar on the street, under big green trees. His face looked cold and numb, and I felt helpless and didn't understand what had happened to his affection. I tried to explain: "I can't walk 30 km again. It's too much for me. Why can't you accept I'm different?" "Mirror, mirror," he said grimly, holding an imaginary mirror in front of my face. "You ruin my trip. You feel so heavy. I feel cold for you, much colder than I show you."
I can't describe what I felt. But I didn't leave him. I didn't run away. I still walked with him for more than 1000 km. We arrived in Santiago together, the perfect couple who had come such a long way.
That night I lay in my bed, in a small room with him and 4 other pilgrims, and I sobbed without making a noise - well, that kind of sobbing when you want the other person to hear that you sob trying to make no noise. Eventually he took my hand and squeezed it comfortingly.
He always broke everything in pieces, and then he tried to repair it. Just to break it again. The saddest thing is that I was happy with it.
I really thought I was happy.
Love,
Luise.