Do you remember my birthday as well as I remember yours?
Im glad we never put a date in our relationship, I don't want the calendar to have a day designed just to remind me what could have been.
I remember reaching for that last button, doubting about writing you or not. I feel the same hesitation now, but now I'm also older, and wiser and I know contention.
What would you think? What would you do? What would you feel?
Am I a friendly ghost or a scary one?
I will write to you. But I'll never send it.
Do you do the same?
Do I appear in your dreams? Do I visit you just as much as you visit me?
I think a part of my brain is stuck in the past. It's so vivid. I thought that my love for you died. But it only moved farther away, to a place where I can't touch it, where it can't die.
Does this sounds similar to you? Does your brain plays dirty tricks like mine does?
There is a word in this new language that I learned: bedazzled.
Is that what you saw when you looked into my eyes? Did you drink on it? I sensed it, I had this intoxicating effect on you but never understood where it came from. But now, older and wiser I can see that you drown on my bedazzlement. I loved you and yes, some part of you loved me but also loved to be loved. And who doesn't, right?
Do you fear the idea of seeing me just as much as I fear it?
I can't bear it. I beg and beg for never seeing your eyes again. Do you?
Maybe it's time to tell you that you put a faith on me that was underserved. You exposed your vulnerability thinking I understood. And I protected you thinking that I did. But I didn't. How could I? You bared your wounds to me while I was there covering mine with all of my mighty force.
I look back and pity us both.
We both burned each other, willingly and unwillingly, consciously and unconsciously. Sometimes I like to revisit the scars of your fire, have you traced the scars that my fire made?
Did you know that our story was never to exists? Because I did, I jumped anyway into it but I always knew. Maybe that's why I was so tormented. I knew it was doomed so what was there to lose? I stayed even if it burned because I knew that fire was going to die eventually. It was a matter of how much of me, and you, could we throw to it to keep it alive.
You were my most beautiful way of self destruction.
Do you feel used? Because I did. I used you to hit rock bottom and left you when I was ready to climb up.
Whatever we were it was only a one way ticket. Deep down I knew that the potential me, the one that didn't want to self destruct, wasn't for you.
My new self would be too much, you would made me feel like I am too much. No. You were there when I wanted to feel like too little. And too little you made me feel. I was never enough, you belittle me and I wanted that.
But that's new knowledge for me, i didn't know back then, and so, I made you the villain.
The past is so distant now that it just looks like a feverish dream.
I was so broken, so many pieces, teenie-tiny pieces of me scattered everywhere, but I didn't realize of that until the last minute, I put down the hammer and realized my work of art: years and years of self destruction. Such delicate and dedicated effort. I rendered myself irreparable.
And so, I created a new self. A better one. Look at me, I even changed languages.
Do you feel that you moved on or do you feel that you just started a new life? It took me forever to realize that it's not the same thing.
I restrained myself for years, because I didn't want to give you the gift that you don't deserve, that you don't want. And yet, after years and years I discovered that the only person that I was hurting was myself. And my new me doesn't do that.
For better or for worse, you are the muse. I can live with that, but can you?
