I.
When I was sixteen years old, I was a girl who had problems with her weight and self-esteem. The two are connected in case you didn’t know this…Once I weighted fifty kilos, another time I weighted ten kilos more. It’s funny – when I think about my teenage years, I think about my complexes.

But also when I think about those years, I think about Tine.

Tine was nice boy who I liked me when I was in elementary school. He was one year younger than me, therefore he was one class behind me. When I finished grammair school at the age of fourteen, I went on to high school in Ljubljana, and after I had been there one year he began his first year.

This was in September of 1978. Slovenia was still part of Yugoslavia, and Tito was still alive (he died in May 1980).

So…this guy…Tine, was in his first year at the same high school that I was attending. We knew each other from elementary school. I behaved toward him like I mostly behaved to guys who openely showed that they liked me.

I ignored him. I mean…I was honored that he liked me, but I didn’t like his way of approaching me. He was too direct. He openly showed that he liked me. He was lots of times waiting infront of my door… at the beginnig or ending of the class and searching for me. My heart was beating aloud when I saw him, but I behaved as if I didn’t see him.

We never ever talked…Whenever my friends and I would pass near by, and he would say something nice to me, I would just roll my eyes and say to my friends: “Look at this kid”… or something to that extent.

Then in October of that year we had gone somewhere with our school on a trip. We traveled by train, and he and I were sitting together in the same compartment. I realized then that I began to have feelings regarding him…

In November I ignored him again. He was always standing in the front of my classes door. He was a tall, handsome guy. One couldn’t miss him at all.

In the beginnig of December I had my sixteenth birthday. We celebrated in the basement of the high school. It was a friday. We had a little disco where there were dances and celebrations. There was a room for a dj. It was not a very big place. It was only about the size of an average classroom; very intimate. The party was merely for special people who were invited. Tine was there. We were dancing to “Hotel California” and after that to “Angie”.

He kissed me. I was…struck by his love. I was…not there, I was flying. I was soooo happy. It was first time, that I aloud myself to be in love.

From then on we were inseparable. We were it! We walked home together with hands together. It took us about a half an hour, we kissed at the end and I went home dreaming. Dreaming…

I think that he told me that I should come that weekend to see him. I didn’t go. I was happy. I didn’t want to spoil that feeling. I remember, that I was so happy that I couldn’t eat nor sleep. In this time I was writing my diary. It was just me and this diary. I wanted to savor this feeling of love which was soooo intoxicating.

I could not wait until Monday so that I may see him again…

***

II.

So… Monday came. How I was waiting to see him… My heart was beating in my head. But he didn’t come in school. He didn’t come neither on tuesday nor on wednesday.

Then I heard that he is in hospital, that he had stomach ulcer… I was schocked. I never expected anything like that. He always seemed to be in perfect health. It was the last thing, that I expected… that he was in hospital. :cry:

I was impationated when he will come out of the hospital, but I couldn’t ask or talk to anyone. I had just my diary (like now, I have just blog to talk to… but blog is read by others and diary was kept secret away from everybody’s eyes…).

So… I heard from my friend Jana, who was the only person who brought me informations from his mother and sister. She said, that he will come out of the hospital for the New Year. New Year was in two weeks. In this time it was the most important thing to go out on party for New Year. We lived still in socialism and Cristmass was then forbidden.

So, once before New Year, I decided to call him from telephone on the street. They were this old telephones and you need to give 1 dinar and then you call. I called into the hospital and ask if I can speak to him. I waited long that he will come and when he came we spoke two words and the telephone line was cut. I called him again, but medical person said, that she will not get him from bed again.

So… it came the New Year’s party. I was somewhere in the flat of my friends celebrating… thinking on my Beloved in hospital…

So it came New Year 1979. Sometimes in January I heard, that he has cancer and that he will die in three months!

I was out of my mind. I didn’t know how to calm myself. I wanted to see him, but I was like paralised. I was in agony, writing my diaries. It was pain, pain, paim…

I didn’t know what to do. I was torn apart. Once I went in the church (since my parents were communists, we were not allowed to go to church). Otherwise I was just alone at home, writing my diary, scared to death, didn’t know, what to do… Feeling guilty, cause I didn’t go to visit him.

Once in Februar I went to visit him, but I run away from the door of the hospital. I was coward. I couldn’t stop that disease of him. I didn’t want that he will die, I couldn’t prevent it. I wanted to tell him that I love him, but I was ashamed of my feelings, since there was all the time his familly around him.

I couldn’t talk to my mother, we were never close… so much less to my father or to my sister who I considered “retarded”. I was ashamed to tell them, that I love him. I was ashamed of my feelings…

At the beginning of March my girlfrend Jana just took my hand and pushed me into hospital. So… I saw him first time after my sixteenth birthday celebration. He was… I didn’t recognized him. He was without his hair, he had 30 kilos less. His voice was the same. He gave me hand and said: “How nice that you didn’t go to school so that you could visit me.”

There were his relatives around his bed. He was actually walking around. I didn’t know what to say, where to look… Then I said to my friend who talked something to him, that I wanna go. I said: “Bye-bye” to him and escaped from there.

He died one week after that. On March 19th, 1979.