In a perfect world Thomas and I would be sharing a flat in Graz. In a perfect world we'd be seeing each other on campus day in and day out. In a perfect world we'd share new friends. In a perfect world he'd get boozed up and I'd lead him home safely. In a perfect world we'd cook crappy stuff while listening to Radiohead all the time. In a perfect world we'd take the first tram in the morning where he'd blow me; a whole tram just for the two of us. In a perfect world I wouldn't feel like seeing his spirit in every other corner in the street. In a perfect world I wouldn't have written about him; I wouldn't have poured my heart out in a student's magazine that couldn't possibly be any less significant. In a perfect world I wouldn't be writing none of this in the first place ...

I just felt like writing something in memory of Thomas. Today's the day. June, 5th 2007. Exactly one year ago. I'm sure he's well, sitting on some crappy cloud, smoking pot and writing along with Sarah Kane. He'd better be, or else I'd "phone" him. I actually wonder what a kind of play the two of them are drumming up right now. The celestial stage all propped up with this imaginations and her dialogue. I don't feel sad. I'm just afraid of his mother calling me today. And I know she will, since this is THE day. I don't know what to tell her. I cried so much, griefed so much, told the story over and over and over again. I'm done. I was done couple of months ago already. I don't have any intention of being scared for the rest of my life. I refuse to be scared. And I refuse to feel guilty. I refuse to ask 'Why, me?' As Thomas said, there'll never be any sufficient answers. Some things just are. Realize it, or go on torturing yourself. I opt for the realizing part. The embracing part. Peace. Love. Empathy. Let go of me, there's nothing else I request. Just let go. Lord fanny, set me free ...