It had been twelve weeks since my last smoke, and I figured I was going to be a non-smoker again after all those years. Fortunately, Andreas offered me a cigarette the other day and it took me barely even a second to light it and take a deep drag.
So it's been thirteen weeks and two days after your passing and I restarted smoking. For my own sake, believe me. It wasn't just an unfortunate situation in which I was on the edge of collapsing – no, I'd just quit as I had forgotten why I needed the nicotine in the first place. You see, I need you a lot harder, obviously, but I am still breathing and living my life without you by my side, so what is the whole point of smoking if I might as well spare myself lung cancer? But it wasn't until I tasted whatever it is a cigarette tastes like, that I realised I still felt a lot better having something than not having it at all. I couldn't have you again, or let's just say... you weren't going to be around for me anymore, 'cause to have you makes you sound more like a slave than my actual twin brother. Anyhow, I am on the other hand within reach of a big dose of nicotine whenever I'd want, and even though that probably won't make me feel a shitload better, it helps. I could use just about everything that helps me get through this.

I'm not going to get through this.

You know I feared saying that? To tell you I am going to be stuck in the same miserable place. Saying it won't make me feel better, I just want you to understand. This thing, this situation I'm in right now, that's not some place of hurt and sadness. It's not a cage and there's no magical key called Moving On that's going to be my rescuer. I'm afraid that's how a lot of people see it. Like they totally understand if I'm rude or if I'm being weird or start crying randomly, because they think someday I will snap out of that place, and there's no reason for me to act weird again because life goes on, man.
Whatever I do or where ever I am, the only real affecting change in my life was when you left against everyone's will except nature's. Well guess what? You're still going to be gone in five months. You're still going to be gone in six years.

AND YOU'RE STILL GOING TO BE GONE IN SEVEN AGES. And I know I don't live that long, so it doesn't really count anymore, but that doesn't fucking matter as I'm trying to get a different point across. My point is, that the place I am in now, is the place where you are not, and so it doesn't matter if I cross some border and I get whizzed into another place, because I already know that's not where you are either.

I'm already aware of the fact that I will have to face whatever crosses my view until I'm an old fat bastard who complains more than he breathes and will die as a result of old age or some disease. Except I hope I never actually become a fatty and I'd rather die just because I'm too old to live than have some terrible disease that will make me suffocate.

Whatever I die of, it's not going to be because of you. Bill, I swear, I will fight what you relentlessly fought. I won't lose. I'll conquer this for you.

Your life was pretty short compared to a lot of others. Mine is going to be longer, it already is. I hope it will last at least three times the length of yours.
I was wasting away in some pub in Berlin, where I went with Andreas, and we didn't say or do much. So I got to hear a lot of conversations I would've usually been too busy for to follow, I guess it just didn't bother me a lot before. So, anyway, I was sitting there and there were these two guys and a woman standing approximately two metres away from me and Andreas. He didn't pay attention to them, but I happened to catch some of what they were saying. And you know what I heard? They were talking about how a human life is so incredibly small. How it barely means anything when you look at the age of the world. Ofcourse it still matters, the woman said. But one of the men didn't even agree with her. Can you believe it? He said that one's life doesn't really matter much because the world will turn a year older even if Jennifer Aniston doesn't. So practically, I thought, he was saying that Jennifer Aniston might as well kill herself right away because her life doesn't matter anyhow. BUT, he said in definite capital letters, it doesn't mean you need to go and jump of a tower block.You want to know his reason for that? Because even if a human life doesn't really matter to the world, it can mean the WORLD to another human being. So they all kept quiet for quite a while and then they ordered another round and left afterwards, leaving me with a stinging tummy. It was the only conversation by strangers I ever listened to and I had never thought it was going to leave such an impact on me. That really made me not want to drink the rest of my beer anymore. So I told Andreas I wanted to go back to the hotel and he didn't look funnily at me, he only nodded and paid for the drinks.

Then we left. Walking down a lot of streets before we finally reached the hotel we'd booked for over the weekend. It's horrible, by the way. Same old boring shit, joined with stupid compassionate looks and talks and even condolences (god, I hate those the most of all) all over the place.

I want them to fuck off. They don't know me and they don't know you, they don't even know Andreas, so what are they talking to me for? What are they looking at me for? They should just keep walking and ignore me or even look at me in disgust like they do with so many other strangers.

Because that's what I really am, aren't I? A stranger.


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