- december will never be the same. the fog, the smell of the dirt, him... but then I evoke my life before this last months, and I have hope that, someday, it will go back into that track. but you... I don't know how you managed this for the last five years. if I keep thinking about it, it end up getting used to it. but if I let it go, even for ten innocent minutes, when it comes back it hits me. everything turns into cracks inside me. I have to proccess the information again, evaluate my personal guilts and regrets, rethink how it could've been, how it should've been... imagine new possible sceneries. when I go to bed, at night, I cry myself to sleep. I pick the events that actually occured and manipulate them into new ones. sometimes, I create a worse scenery. others, I turn it into something good. when it gets bad, I feel this anguish inside. I cry harder. and then I remind myself: calm down, it could've gone that way, but it didn't. and it gives me a false relief, because things were ugly anyway. everytime the actual true comes to my mind, I feel dizzy, as if I was falling. there's a cold on my stomach. everytime something reminds me of him - a song, a movie, a conversation, a place - I feel this dizziness. It won't go away, it doesn't fade anytime I recall what happened. and yet I know that I don't love him, not with all my heart. I'm in love with him but I don't love him. Infatuation, as you call it. So, how did you manage to survive the last five years?
- With the false expectation that, one day, everything people say about us is a lie. that I won't end up alone and he won't end up married to some cute chick that his friends approve and who'd be unable nor only to understand him, but to love him as much as I do. I believe in the order of things - not me and him, not two characters on two pages of a novel, but the book, the novel, the plot itself, which need us to make sense. and there's no other way to bring this ship to shore with logic. and while you're in love with him, but you don't love him, right know I love him as much as I always did, but I'm not in love with him. I'm not dying to see him. I'm not dying to be with him. I'm not dying for that little moment at the end of the evening when he leaves and holds my hand for a few seconds. I don't wait for any of that. I can finally stand silence and distance and the absolute ignorance of having no idea of what's going on in his life. thank god finally, some peace. a break. and yes, every little single detail of my daily life might recall me of him - if I let it be. I do not. today I came all the way up the avenue playing with my purse, taking little runs when the music I was listening demanded it, and smilling at nothing. and then I stop and asked myself: what do you really have on your life to be happy for? I swept it out of my mind and then, suddenly, I was happy and running and singing and smiling again. the secret relies on closing the doors to your free thoughts. keep him out. ban him out. I have so many subjects to feel dizzy about... sometimes I think I took a spin on the roller coaster. every single corner of our town reminds me of him. december? nor only december but january - it belongs to him. february - him, formally dressed. march - him, going away and returning, the words on our way back from the train station. the farrewell hugs. april... august, oh august, almost a first lips meeting. an almost death. september - the grass, the white on your shirt, my glasses on your nose. november, your hands on your pockets, your hair needing a little cut. december... 23. I missed you so... still do, always will. and you took the test and say that if a truck came in his direction you wouldn't receive it on your bare chest for him? I would. and you recognize that you'd probably forget him if he went impotent? though I desire him, I ache for him, I burn for him more than I ever thought a woman could burn for a man, more than I ever thought I'd ever long for someone, I'd accept him and keep him for good. as far as eternity could take us, and still be happy beyond imaginable. and I even understand that this is as scary at my age - or his - as man stepping on the moon must've been on '69, but then what? I didn't chosoe it. if I had the choice, I'd close the door over this hurricane. but I need all my strenght to do it and, you know what? sometimes, when the door is almost, almost closed, I commit the stupidity of taking one last look through the gap, only to caress my beautiful love, my overwhelming love, one last time... and guess what? I can't close a door over such rarity. it has the value of a pure diamond, left behind for bigger and more profitable ones. what's left for me, hein? But to wait, if there's something to wait for? when I was little, I recall this one afternoon waiting for my mother to go to the zoo. It was saturday and she never had the good sense of comming on time to wherever she went. I had the feeling that I'd be at the window for many, many, many hours, so I wasn't even bothered to register, on my notebook, the hours, car brand, model and color of each vehicle that passed on my street. at first I wasn't so scared. mom always made us wait... but then... the night was comming and the zoo, where we were supposed to go, should be closing. I used to come inside and promise myself that, next time, I wouldn't believe her. I wouldn't see honesty on her promises. I'd be smarter, I'd receive her, at night, with a laughter and tell her that I hadn't wasted a single second of my only life waiting for her. the next time, I fell again. I always did, just for the pleasure of having the simple insignificant possibility of going to the zoo on that afternoon. such beautiful parade of animals, I could preview it on my mind... but then mother wouldn't come again. and it's the same with him. the waiting kills me, though I know it's too soon... but then... I need to live out of the possibility of going there this saturday. and then... what if the zoo closes before we arrive there?
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