saying goodbye, because we both know it's time.

from vienna to berlin, berlin to new york, new york to vienna, and a denouement in paris.

below are three journal excerpts from the past week. tangled in fear, admittance, clarity, and joy.

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new york, march 1^st, 2026 – excerpt #1

I can’t believe I’m doing this. I called mom earlier while waiting for the subway to JFK, on my way to paris for the week. she told me elena thinks I’m in love with him.

I don’t love him, please don’t say that again.

I know why I said this. because I’m terrified to be in love with someone so far away and so unavailable.

why must I reject simplicity?

more than anything, I’m scared he won’t feel the same way. that this is all in my head, that his emotions only go halfway, or mine take up all the space. that I’ll be stuck in paris with someone who can’t stand me and is dying to get away.

but is it really crazy that I might love him, or that we might love each other? we’ve been together three times in the last two years, this will be the fourth — how can I possibly love someone I’ve barely been around, whom I know in so many ways, but whose favorite flavor of ice cream I can’t recall?

I suppose I’m getting ahead of myself, as usual; my romanticism is taking over, the same way my anxiety often does. and, when I see him, I can ask him what his favorite flavor of ice cream is (update from march 3^rd: anything with chocolate and nuts).

I feel like I’m floating. maybe because I’m sleep deprived, I’ve barely slept eight hours in the last two days. or maybe because my nervous system is shutting down as I wander into a complete unknown. I am wildly out of my depth.

paris, march 6^th, 2026 – excerpt #2

I haven’t had much time to write today, or yesterday, for that matter. I’ve had two glasses of red wine (vin rouge), and I feel it in my cheeks; it invades my smile. near the end of my first glass, I realized that I’ve missed him in the few hours we’ve been apart. I don’t love him; in some ways, I wish I did. but it wouldn’t make the last two years any more real, that much I know. I feel held and seen, and I’ll carry that for a long time. I’m scared to tell him this, amongst so many other things, but for the sake of this being a week and a week only, I’ll try to figure out how to muster the words. because, after this, I suppose it’s done. he’s on his path, one that is radically different than mine. truthfully, we’ve never been on the same path. But I always hoped that one day, somehow, we would be.

I look at him and feel fear and comfort. fear that I’m not enough, that I’m a burden or annoyance. and comfort every time he smiles, rubs my back, grabs my hand. but no matter what, this is it for us. I wonder, can he feel it too?

the question gnawing at me, what I really want to ask him, is it really special for you, the way it is for me? I’d like to hope so, but I’d prefer not to dive further into this fantasy. because when reality comes crashing down, it’s rather painful.

It’s strange spending this much time with a man. I miss my friends so much. I wish I could feel both at once, each ounce of love around me in perfect unison. I fear that I lose myself too much with someone else, with only one person. I forget my boundaries and who I am, what I like, what I feel. I spend my time praying that they won’t leave me before I get the chance to relax, to be myself, to open up in ways I don’t know how. I’m finding that I am hopelessly underexposed to the vulnerabilities of love.

paris, march 10^th, 2026 – excerpt #3

we lay in bed after and spoke about how we feel, I said I feel happy, that the last days were the best for me. I watched his eyes flicker and asked him what he was thinking about.

- -The first time I saw you at the bus stop in Vienna.

he stopped again and smiled. I asked him if he remembered how we began talking, and he told me to tell the story from my side.

we spoke briefly at the station in vienna, but I think I talked to the other guy more, what was his name…lewis? I remember noticing you, because you had been noticing me, and I thought you looked sweet and kind. on the first bus to brno, I looked back at you and saw you were sleeping. I read the whole time, didn’t sleep at all. when we arrived in brno, you walked off the bus and came right up to me, smiling and stretching. I asked you if you slept, and you said yes, and then you asked me the same. I told you I had been reading, and you asked me which book.

- - across the street from the station…what was the name of that hotel with the big red sign?

grand hotel brno, I think. I looked at it for so long. It was the only thing in front of us.

we smiled and kissed. he told me how much he thought about me in the days after our meeting, how excited he was to see me again upon his return to berlin. I told him I was so nervous when he was on his way over, how I kept fixing my hair and walking back and forth around the apartment. how good the sex was, how much I had been thinking about it since we met. how the date at tempelhofer was so wonderful, how we both wanted it to go on forever, at least until I left the country the next day. but really, how it never truly ended – here we lay together two years later, recounting our first meeting. he told me it was the best first date he’s ever had. I told him me too. I started to cry again, but this time I assured him they were happy tears. I told him how happy I am that we met, for the time we’ve had together and apart. we looked at each other for a long time, smiled, and kissed while my tears slowly streamed across my face, onto the pillow. we traced the cheeks, lips, and hair of the other. the last looks, last moments. truly, this time. I told him I’m grateful we tried so we can know what we are and aren’t, with certainty, without messiness or disdain or distance. to see if this would be something bigger or if it’s the end. and while it is the end, it’s better for both of us.

I feel an immense release. something I gave to myself, and he did too. and we’ll always have paris.