Leaving Buchloe
It’s three in the morning Thursday and I’m leaving Buchloe. Most of the packing is done—CDs, DVDs, books, clothes. I’m not taking much since the student housing in Berlin comes furnished. I’ve been trying to make a list of everything I need to buy once I’m there. Brush, salt shaker, pens. A microwave, which I’ve never owned. That alone feels surreal.
Becca. These past years, you were the one I counted on most, even when you were fighting battles inside yourself I could only guess at. I love you and it was an honor rebelling against the narrow walls they wanted to keep us behind. I’ll miss lying in bed with you while the world moved outside, but we already know how this works—we’ll cook, we’ll whine about our lives on the phone, we’ll do indecent things on camera. When the time comes we’ll finally settle on that island in the South Pacific, just the two of us and the monkey butler.
Ana is different. You’ve been this constant tearing at me—loving you and needing to let you go, but not wanting to lose the best friend you became for a while. Looking back from the lake last summer, those beautiful nights, all the way to this summer when I just couldn’t do it anymore… I’ve basically destroyed everything. But I understand why now. Because with you I was finally just myself. And you were just you. The thing is, I couldn’t handle how your sweetness wrecked me, the way you live like you’re not afraid of dying, the passion you bring to small stupid things. I failed you.
You said love is like fire—you can’t get close without burning, but you keep reaching anyway. That’s exactly how it feels around you. Like a stupid moth throwing myself against a light until I shatter. That’s one reason I have to leave.
I admire you, Ana. Nobody gets inside my head the way you do. I spent so much time wanting to tell you what you mean to me, how you changed me. But whenever I tried it came out as pathetic sentimental garbage, nothing like what I actually felt. All I wanted was to be something special to you. You’re already extraordinary. I hope you get whatever comes next. You’ll figure it out.
Buchloe, I’ve got a love-hate thing with plenty of places, and you’re at the top. I’ll miss knowing you like the inside of my pocket. The Alpenstraßenberg where Ali got his face destroyed so completely he could kiss his own feet. The Zugspitz playground where Eniz and I spent years just sitting around. That development in the west where I had to sprint just to fuck some blonde with big tits. The gravel pit we’d jump off in summer, the bar where the crew threw parties constantly, and the endless station street I’d trudge at dawn after we’d been playing Phantasy Star Online all night.
The rest of you chaotic bastards—I’ll miss you too, even though you put up with me when I was clearly losing it. Even though one moment I wanted to throw my arms around all of you and the next I wanted you out the door. Even though I’d ignore my phone for days when I was feeling like shit. Or maybe I’ll miss you because you hated me. Because I walk around like a fairy and you decided that mattered. Because you’re with one of my exes who still wants me on the side. Because I called you a fat slob and meant it. Whatever happened between us, I wouldn’t be who I am without you.
I need stuff for Berlin. Brushes, spoons, pens—basically everything. Having my own microwave for the first time feels insane. The capital should get ready. It’s time. Even my aunt thinks so.