You worry me.
You say you don’t love me, and that’s good because I moved on and I no longer include us in my future. Yet, too often I find you passing at my door… by chance, as you always say.
Do not fool yourself; you are really the most interesting person I know, and you have so many things that no one else even grasps (those lips!), but I also decided that I would forget you and if there are decisions that have to be respected are the ones I do myself. This also I learned from you.
What I mean by this is that the interest I have for you is completely unselfish and it doesn’t even cross my mind that we will, someday, have any involvement beyond the great friendship I’m hoping will be everlasting.
That said, I really want to confront you with the awkwardness that your constant presence causes.
You’re in the bakery where I usually go at 8:00, then “accidentally” you show up wherever I lunch, no matter the place. And, on the rainy days – which are not few – I found you waiting with an umbrella ready to give me a ride. I always try to resist, but you end up convincing me. You take me home and always give me wise, yet annoyingly patronizing advices. I always end up feeling better.
Your magic still works, you always make me fell good.
Then we say goodbye and I feel your eyes on my back while I walk home. Then I’m relieved because I resisted kissing you.
Then, when everything goes well, I don’t remember you all day, I hang out with my boyfriend – who has a lot more time for me than you ever would have… And this thought makes me think about the sacrifices you probably have done to give me a ride. I know that you have every minute of the day accounted for, and that’s the very reason why we didn’t work.
You yourself said you where never there when I needed. It’s true. The endless days I suffered by not knowing of you, longing for your enormous hug …
Now I don’t have it’s comfort – which is unmatched, but also do not suffer for not having it, because the comfort I have, however smaller, is mine.
I think that’s why the greatest love stories never last. They’re necessarily fatal. A great passion cannot survive, because it consumes everything around it. At most it can become a happy love. That is a huge blessing, and I have it.
I have to thank what you where and always will be to me. That’s why I’d like you to be as happy as you look, or as you turned me into.
Sometimes can you deceive me and seem genuinely happy, but it can never last long.
I know I cannot have great importance in your life, but still I want you to know that your happiness is very important to me and to so many people you inspire. You know you’re a point of reference, odd, but still an example. Examples must be happy so that we, ordinary people, can also believe that we can be happy.
I wish you happiness.
Alemente 