The rollercoaster

I silently eat my cereal and look outside. I'm not hungry. I haven't been hungry anymore since that last kiss. I don't want to go today. I don't want to leave the house, or even my bed. The ticket was already bought and Adriaan sent me a message asking if I would come.
The spoon gets heavier with each bite and I decide to stop. Oke, I'll go to the zilleghem folkfestival, but only because I don't want to waste the money and I don't want to disappoint people anymore.

 It's cloudy but it's not raining. I follow my mother everywhere like a baby duck and when she talks to people I try to join. But I'm just not energized enough. I feel like little Tineke, shy when strangers approach me and always wanting to hold mama's hand.
People are joyfully dancing to the music and when Adriaan reaches out his hand, asking me to dance I look at him with guilt. The dance is called the mazurka and it is a dance I and Tybo always shared. I feel mama's fingers dancing on my back and I turn around. I turn my face away because tears come out of nowhere. I can't stop and I only hear "it's oke."
I fight it all and when I feel it's safe again to turn around, Adriaan is dancing with someone else. I know he doesn't mind, but I feel incredibly lost and guilty. I drown myself in the apple juice I just ordered and drink it all. Goodness, I would have been drunk as hell if that would have been alcohol.
I fill the day with little Baldr and his beautiful mother Delphine, a good friend. I am amazed at how a child can bring such peace. I let myself get sucked up in his cuteness and I'm not letting him go for the rest of the day.

-

Words get poured in my book like never before. It's day two of the festival and my parents have to perform with their band. Adriaan and my good friend Emma aren't here yet so I disappear in my book. I started to write in it when Tybo left and since then haven't found the stop button. My nights are filled with vivid dreams and writing in between them. 

I finish the page and when I look up I see Tom, a good friend of my parents, talking to my mother. He looks at me and I know she is telling him why I'm so quiet. He comes to me and takes my arm.

"Come on lady, you're sitting with us, you don't have to sit here all alone." 

I smile gratefully. Happy that people tolerate my introvert side. 

The day is oke and I even have a little fun with Emma, who I haven't seen in such a long time. 

I enjoy the music and try to push away the "he would love this band so much" thought. 

When we go home I feel Martina's (Adriaans mother) hand on my arm.

She gives me a home made serum that smells like flowers. It's bright yellow and it's a tiny bottle. 

"What is it?" I ask.

"Its for your heart. Rub it on your heart and it will help you with your sadness."

I smile and hug her tight. I can't believe how good people are to me. 

-

I sigh and turn around once again. Once again sleep is just too far away. I am so tired...
It's tuesday the second of august, two a.m. in the morning. 

I have already written so much and I don't want to write anymore tonight. I look at Kastaar, my cat, who keeps me company now and then. He has been around more at night since we broke up and it's just what I need. I try to stop my train of thoughts by watching him but it does not work. 

Questions keep forcing themselves in my head and the frustration of not knowing angers me. 

How is he? 

Does he sleep well at night? 

Is he having fun? 

Is he lonely?

Is he relieved? 

Are girls flirting with him?

Is he going with it? 

I take the journal and ask answers from the pages. 

-

It's thursday, the fourth of august. I know he is leaving with his friends to a festival. I'm leaving tomorrow to the Dranouter festival that we were supposed to go together to. Tybo now goes to Castlefest.
The night was heavy again. I know this will be the hardest weekend yet to come. He will be there with our mutual friends and I'll be here, with my journal and my camera.
I will make up stories watching the flames of the late night bonfires while they will tell stories to each other. I slap myself and demand that I snap out of it. I tell myself that I'll be fine and I pack my bags. I'll be fine.
The evening falls again and I cry for the rest of the night, fighting to push demonic thoughts away and fighting even more to fall asleep.