Those summer nights.

It was a summer night, I could feel the light breeze, that smelled like the sea, touching me very gently, making me shiver. I sat on the small balcony of my apartment, and I just stared at the moon that was reflecting on the distant surface of the sea. My mind was racing with so many thoughts, and before I knew it, I started going through all the past memories with him. I kept thinking of how he held me. How he used to look at me; as if I was the most precious thing in his world. Memories of us lying in bed, just staring at the sunsets from the big white windows, while jazz played distantly. Remember the times we had? How could you just forget all we had been through? All the pain, the happiness? How could you? I had so many questions, I wanted to scream at him, to curse at him. The sound of the waves crashing on the rocks was utterly relaxing at the moment. I could feel salty tears running from my eyes, I could feel the burning sensation in my throat, I could feel the sadness settling inside my soul. How can love destroy you? I don’t even know if it was love what I had with him. I wanted to call him and tell him to come back to me and just go back to those times…those times where we were young and reckless, we didn’t know anything about life and we just wanted to have fun. I wanted to repeat the past so badly, I wanted it to come back in life, make me relive those moments with the same strong emotions. My vision of the perfectly round and bright moon had blurred from my tears. I went inside and changed the song to Pink Floyd’s Hey you. He disliked Pink Floyd and I loved them. Probably that was a sign that we were completely different. One week after he said the hurtful things to me, I expected him to come back to me and tell me that he was sorry. But he never did. He deleted his memories with me and moved on with his life, being happy, while I was left broken. When the break-up occurred we were sitting somewhere peaceful, he didn’t even look at me once. He was staring at the candle on our table and he didn’t even touch me or hug me. He said ‘’It’s over’’ in the most insensitive tone I had even heard and I picked up my purse and left as quickly as I could. I wanted to disappear and I let out all the tears and broke down. I was trying my best to not cry in front of him but some tears ran down my cheeks. I kept thinking of Hemingway’s quote ‘’A human was not made for defeat. A human can be destroyed but not defeated.’’ And I was destroyed. I slowly got up and headed inside. I stopped the record and put on some classical music, I poured myself a glass of wine and pulled out my notebook. I started writing. I started writing about memories, landscapes, the beautiful and peaceful beaches in the small Greek islands. I wrote because I wanted to keep my mind off my sadness. I wrote because it made me feel alive. I wrote until my hand hurt; however, I didn’t stop. The night was my companion and my enemy. I would feel the most creative and the most depressed during the nights. The little wooden French doors of the balcony were still open and the curtains were moving silently and rhythmically from the breeze. I sat there and I observed. I observed the stars, the moon, the sea. I loved the silence, it was only me and I could hear my thoughts.