Day One hundred and thirty nine - The other side of Mt. Heart Attack

There was a yawning chasm between us. We weren't communicating, we were hurting, and the distance bewteen us seemed to grow. I think I confronted Silvia about what I found out, and it was during this conversation that I found out she was leaving. Not leaving me, but leaving - she was going back home. Her previous employer before she moved to the Netherlands had been in touch with her, and they'd landed a prestigious architecture gig and were courting her back. I know she was unhappy there, but so was I. We both were. But her way of dealing with unhappiness was to run away. I was detecting a pattern here, one that would eventually repeat itself, time and time again. So she told me that she had booked her flight, and that was that. She was going back. No amount of words I spoke could sway her. Once more I thought that that would be it for us, that our story had come to an end. I could see no hope for us. But, of course, we kept in touch. We talked often - probably daily - and we wrote letters to one another all the time. So things were never quite done between us.

In the meantime, not only was I still getting flak from the landlady over what the other tenants were neglecting to do and she demanded I do, but in a short time the house got filled up with noisy french kids. The first guy thought he could practice his guitar late at night, then when two girls arrived they'd literally talk as loud as they could for as long as they could every single god damned night, and I was getting fed up. At work I'd met a customer that told me had a room to rent, and soon I moved out of where I was and went to the new place. I went to literally the cheapest room I could find, and that meant sharing the room with another person. But the people who I lived with - and I was there for a few months only - were cool people and we got along really well. It was no hardship at all sharing the room with the other guy - he worked ungodly hours, and I only ever saw him during the weekends, when we'd drink a few beers. My life back then was gym-work-home, basically. After work, maybe some shopping if I needed, days off would be spent resting, sometimes going to Camden or to central London to buy books, and then get some leisure time at home reading or watching something on my computer. As I said, I didn't stay there for too long, and that's because a new place was offered up to me. I would have to spend some days in a different house, though - I'd have to wait until the new place got vacated. But I stayed in a huge-ish house all for myself for a few days. I got the sincere impression that the house was haunted, as I kept hearing very strange noises. I was glad to be on my way out of there as soon as I could, though I didn't yet know that eventually I'd end up back there again. But that's still some ways away.