Shadows of What We Were

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I painted you as a monster through thousands of words, only to later idolize you as a god. Gradually, you became a man, and now you are just a stranger.

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    Dear you...

    The one who often told me how important I am and how lucky he is that I exist and that I am his. His... such beautiful words that slowly turned into tears. I was no longer his, and everything fell apart, taking us back to what we were at the beginning. Simple people with open wounds that turned into scars over time, like blades of grass struggling to be carried by the wind. But do you manage to do that? Because I, despite trying so hard, never succeeded.

    I don’t know if you still read me, if you still remember me when you smoke your cigarette at the window. I once hoped that you would quit smoking because we both know it doesn't do you any good. But I don’t think you did. Somehow, in the evenings, after dinner with the family, you go to the window and look at the dark sky, filled with the dreams of people who cast them aside out of indifference. You are not indifferent, you are just a stranger to ideals... Once you had them too and dreamed of building a life on that ideal. But fear and paranoia captured your soul and you became their prisoner. They were stronger than any word of love heard from me, stronger than any tear shed to the tunes of a piano playing in minor, stronger than any promise bathed in smiles and laughter. I can almost see you rolling your cigarette and holding it between your fingers, often forgetting to smoke it. You often stay lost in thoughts, demons with faces of conscience that don’t let your soul breathe. And nothing can bring you to the surface of reality.

    I liked to imagine you saying goodnight to me every evening and maybe falling asleep thinking of me. I cried and counted sheep in my dreams, just as I did with you on the nights when I couldn’t sleep. Now the sheep have grown long horns and the scent of loneliness, unable to be counted. And the bed... the bed became my grave for a long time. Any sound, any spark from day or night reminded me of you and it hurt. I never believed that you, the person I loved most in the universe, became a shooting star that extinguished and perished. My galaxy remained empty and the planets couldn’t find their place, being swallowed by black holes that kept appearing in my soul.

    Your image followed me everywhere, and I began to fall in love again with a version of you created by my illusions. Insecurity began to sprout, and reality faded in front of the fantasies my mind was weaving. You were there, in every shadow, in every glimmer of light, an echo of all that we were.

    From the prince I dreamed of, you became a demon. I painted you as a monster through words and abandoned you on sheets of paper, often wishing you would return and I would become the goddess who changes you back to what you were at the beginning. I know... I was wrong... and I’m sorry I did that – you didn’t deserve it. But the pain in my eyes when I looked at myself in the mirror only saw your face, and the way you looked at me when I smiled or did who knows what. I won’t deny it... I miss all those things. You, in turn, saw me as a monster who shattered your soul into a thousand pieces, just as others in your life did. I’m sorry I was no better than them, but I truly loved you with all my being and would have gone to the ends of the earth for you. You once told me that I made you believe again that people can be good. Do you still believe that?

    Pain, over time, became my friend and I began to weave my life according to the norms I believed perfect. A fake smile and a heart made of ashes, a perfect life without you. And I tried so hard to make it so, but I could never close my past. I imagined you couldn’t stay at home and went out with friends. That you stayed with them in the evenings and sometimes went on vacation. Somewhere by the sea, in an attic room, from where you could step out onto the roof. You poured a bit of whiskey into a crystal glass, rolled a cigarette, and thought about whatever philosophical topic your drinking buddy raised. Other times, I imagined you were at the table with your family, eating the snails you told me about so many times, or that you were on work calls, serious as if the entire planet depended on you. I always idolized you like a god. From a monster, you became again the god I missed so much. I couldn’t hate you even though I tried so many times, but without any success.

    Days passed, months passed, and years passed. You hurt me again and again, even in our absence. Silence was painful, like a background noise that destroyed any thought. My birthday wasn’t filled with tears of joy but with a sad smile masking the depression I was in. Your messages written to another person, instead of us, destroyed any trace of deity, and you became a man. A simple man who lost any thread of “special”. I saw you happy although, deep down, I knew there was no other person. You just wanted to make me see you differently, you wanted it to hurt, to make me hate you, to never want to hear from you again, and yet I carried you on my sky like an open wound that I didn’t want to close. If I did that, I would lose the humanity that you brought back to the surface.

    For a while, you succeeded, but the miracle didn’t last long. I tried to focus on myself, to learn to live with the thought that I would never be able to talk to you again. I wanted to regain my inner strength and learn from past mistakes. I wanted to regain my inner strength, but a part of me still carried you in my soul and kept me captive in the sphere of love that had extinguished.

    In the end, you became a stranger. Sometimes I miss you, sometimes I miss us: what we were and what we could have been. I remained like a pair of white socks that you hate so much and therefore never buy from the stores. One with a pattern and the other without any because that’s how we are: different, imperfect, but at one point, we made the perfect pair.

    I realized that you are no longer the god I fell in love with, nor the monster I feared. You became just another stranger I met at one point. Writing this, I still feel the pain, but it transforms into a melancholic calm, and I feel liberated. Somewhere, I still keep a fragment of that god I loved so much and who became my center. Now, above all, I create my own universe. Maybe you will read this, maybe you won’t, but the turmoil of life becomes peace.

Thank you for being with me even when I didn’t deserve it.

Thank you for forgiving my mistakes and believing in me, as no one else did.

Thank you for all the smiles and all the moments when we laughed until we ran out of breath.

Thank you for accepting me as I am.

Thank you for pushing me forward when I wanted to do something but didn’t have the courage.

Thank you for loving me, in your way and in mine.

Thank you for many times understanding me in ways I didn’t even understand myself.

I’m sorry you suffered and that every night ended in tears when I fell asleep.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you needed me most.

I’m sorry I didn’t fight more for us.

    Now it’s just me. And I want you to be happy as I couldn’t make you. I want you to find the right person. I finally accept myself, full of imperfections and mistakes. From today, I let go of the past and try to only see the future.

Yours,

Or rather,

Another stranger!