…past the ice cream place at Kirchplatz

We sat here, you big, bumbling idiot.

I passed by that artisanal ice cream place at Kirchplatz today. You know, the one in Starnberg. Where we had ice cream on a tonka waffle, on the day of my mental breakdown back in 2020–although that happened later. You saw a lot of tears that year, but that you didn’t see. At least we were both spared the embarrassment.

And so, I found myself at Kirchplatz today. They’ve had no tables out for nearly two years, but now the world’s slowly starting to turn again, and the tables are out. So, there you go. We sat here. I know the exact table. I know my exact thoughts.

Something was missing, both for you and me—although, who the hell knows if you’ll ever admit it. As for me? I found the missing pieces, one by one, in all the places we sat after that; all the places where we had a beer, a burger, a slide down a muddy track during a rainy hike, an awkward selfie, an awkward scratch at the violin. I collected them painstakingly, put them together, edge to jagged edge. The picture that emerged was beautiful–not with the beauty of perfection, but with the beauty of scars and a life somehow lived.

You’d think I’m angry, but I’m not. You might think I’m sad, but that was over long ago. Hurt? Disillusioned? That all happened. It’s over.

What I am now is wiser. I learned so much, both thanks to you and because of you, and also despite you. But the most important thing I learned is this: the relentless energy that drives me to pursue stuff with an obsessive passion? I’d better use it on projects—not people.

Because the people who are good for me will find me in the end. I don’t need to expend all that energy on them. And if they don’t find me? Well, I’m good enough for me. And I found me in the end.

You keep ghosting me. That’s fine. I know you’re scared. You shouldn’t be. Whatever I could do to you, I already did. Whatever you could do to me, you already did.

I really, really hope you’re well.

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