Day Two hundred and fifty - Reykjavik

Seven years. Seven long years since I left and arrived here, not knowing a word of the language, not even knowing where I'd be staying. I didn't care, all I could think about was that I had finally left. I'm here... I've been here, to escape you. Seven years. That's over twenty five hundred days. And every single day I spent here I thought of you. Every day I spent here I've missed you. Oh, I still had your phone number. For as much as I wanted to fool myself and say I didn't know it by heart... I did. So, I could have reached out to you any time I wanted. In any manner of ways, I suppose. I could've called. I could have texted. And I felt tempted. So, so much. Many a night I found myself laying in bed late at night writing you a message, but I'd always end up deleting them. There are a number of unsent emails I wrote to you on my drafts folder, and I never sent any. Seven years, and I'd dedicated those years to becoming a cypher. Almost no digital footprint, nothing to my name. Just... waiting for time to go by, until the day came. 

I am hard to find. You are easy to find. Throughout all these years I'd see what was happening in your life - you never did keep your social media profiles private. I always wondered if you missed me at all, or if you even thought of me. Maybe you did, for a little while. Maybe you missed arriving like a storm, and then leave me broken in its wake. Maybe. Can you understand why I left? I hope you do, somehow. And I hope you can forgive me one day, for all that's yet to come. Maybe a couple of years ago I saw this post you'd made, you were expecting. My heart swelled with such joy, but also with such sadness. That was my one moment of weakness - I tried to call you, but you didn't pick up. Some days later I received a message from you, one letter only : 'G?'

I never replied. You... you deserved to be fully happy, without me in your life. Perhaps you thought that it had just been a misdial, or something like that. I don't know. You didn't send any more messages after that, and that's for the best. It's cold today, this late December morning. Good, I like it cold. I need it to be cold. Colder. Colder and colder. I'm driving down to the south in a little while, and spend my day at the beach. I need one day like this, I need to see beauty one more time. Seven years, my love, but soon the pain will go away forever. Seven years. Seven years. Away from each other. I have to go south, one final time, then I must sail further north.