Gabriela Miziniak

A series of journal entries I wrote thinking of you instead of going to sleep. 

Entry 1 04/07/2015 22:34 

I don’t miss you anymore 

Only when I hear others speak your language and suddenly I don’t feel like a fraud trying to pretend I fit in 

Only when I visit a place laced with you and I can’t help but think about when I was here with you 

Only when I catch your scent in public, and can’t help but follow it in hopes of finding you 

Only when I hear your catchphrase and remember how your voice expressed it so easily 

Only when I hear our song, and remember how we used to dance like we were the only ones alive 

Only when I wish that I didn’t and I try to pretend I am happy here when we both know I am not 

Only when I let myself fall down a well that is filled to the brim with reminders of you 

I let myself drown in them just to get a sense of feeling closer to you.  

 

Entry 2 31/12/2019 23:50 

I miss when you weren’t just a holiday but my whole life. my home. 

I miss spending all my time with you, instead of just reminiscing. 

I miss seeing you everyday, and not just glimpses in photos. 

I miss watching the seasons change through you. 

I miss your sounds, beneath my footsteps. 

I miss what it felt like to observe you in the moonlight. 

I miss feeling you at my fingertips, the walls here don’t carry your texture, 

you seemed to etch meaning into them so easily.  

I miss your authenticity, the people lack that here  

(and I fear I am beginning to lose mine too).  

I miss when I wasn’t drowning in these memories, but experiencing them with you  

(now I just splash in the water aimlessly).  

I miss a version of you that no longer exists - at least not for me. 

I miss when I was naive enough to believe that it did, that I could return and find everything untouched.  

Like I did a year ago, when I was wandering through you forcing myself to believe that it was still the same you dancing around with the same old me. 

 

Entry 3 11/11/2021 5:00 

Soon, I will be submerged in them entirely,   

No surface.  

No air.  

Just you. 

 

Entry 4 11/11/2021 23:11 

Dear ______, 

I can’t sleep again, and it’s all your fault. 

It’s been so long, but I am still thinking of you. 

And the day that I left, I have almost managed to erase it out of my mind. 

but the airport is still there,  

with the rush, 

the tears and  

the loud announcements. 

It’s a vivid memory that I choose to torture myself with. 

I think about what it was like to walk down your street. 

To greet you every morning and fall asleep with you at night. 

I think about all your scents and sounds and how they once meant home.  

The sound of shoes hitting the pavement to the rhythm of your folk music, 

the smell of cigarette smoke from a stranger’s lips settling over me.  

I wish it was the same here, I wish I could find you here. 

I will hold on to you endlessly, even though I have been gone from you for a long time. 

I drag my pen across the page writing these hopeless letters to you, as I do with my feelings lost in desperate thoughts trying to stay closer to you.  

every memory,  

every version of you I refuse to let go of. 

Who knows how many nights I have lost to the thought of you?  

To thoughts of us. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Unfortunately, forever yours Gabrysia 

 

Entry 5 20/08/2023 21:27 

There is a restaurant that I go to, to eat your food. 

I tell myself it's the same, 

I tell myself this is fine. 

I do the same with your music, your shows, and your films – anything that belongs to you.  

I consume them all like proof that some part of you still exists. 

I try to pretend it is the same. 

But then I go outside and the streets don’t look the same, they aren’t yours. 

The air doesn’t smell the same,  

the trees don’t dance like they used to with you.  

By the time I realise that, nothing else feels the same, not the food, the music, the shows, and the films.  

I can’t quite put my finger on what is different but something’s off. 

I feel it in my bones, the ache of pretending that this is you, and yet I still put myself through this torture. 

It has become a performance.   

A way to stay close to you.  

A way to hold onto every fragment I have left. 

But it’s not real. It’s not the same. 

Even when I am with you, I can feel it all slipping away. Cause I know that my time with you is only passing, a temporary moment, lost in a restless, longing stream. 

I try to hold on to it, but the current is always stronger than I am.  

 

Entry 6 04/03/2026 21:16 

I wish I could walk down your street for the first time again. 

I wish I could look at you just one more time.  

I wish I could enjoy my memories of you without it turning into a performance. 

Like I am just trying to hold on to something that isn’t there. 

Like I am trying to pretend you’re still mine. 

I wish I could have just had one more day. 

I wish I could hear your language in public just one more time. 

I wish I could burn every trace of you into my mind before it becomes a memory.  

Like our last encounter was just yesterday. 

Like you were always waiting for me. 

Like I have been waiting for you. 

I wish I wasn’t so attached; you seem to let me go so easily.  

I wish I could do that.