Echoes of Glory: FC Barcelona Imagine

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ Paper Cuts (Héctor Fort.)

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You stand alone on the rooftop, the city sprawling beneath you in its nightly silence. The cool wind brushes against your face, and you try not to think about the reason you can’t sleep tonight.

Tomorrow is just out of reach, an uncertain promise clutched in your hands. You’ve learned to hide the pain, the ache that’s become an invisible knife lodged deep in your heart, making every day seem like a walk through a loveless, indifferent world.

You trace the sky with your gaze, a vast expanse marked by a blanket of stars that seem as distant as your dreams. But tonight, you wish you could cut through the starless night, the darkness that envelops you, with nothing but the hope of a better tomorrow.

The world you envisioned, the future you longed for, feels so far away, fragile and fleeting. In your hand, you can almost feel the paper cuts—tiny, sharp reminders of the promises made and broken.

Every fleeting moment, every fragile promise feels like it’s etched into your skin, reminding you of what once was and what could have been.

The paper cuts in your hand are illuminated only by the faint light of the city below, each one a reminder of dreams deferred, of hopes that hover just out of reach.

You wonder if anyone can see them, if anyone else feels the sting of their presence, the pain of their impermanence.

Days pass, each one filled with things you can only do now, while time slips by too quickly. You try to hold onto what you have, to savor the present even as it morphs into the past.

Whenever you close your eyes, you can still see him—Héctor Fort, a figure who once stood beside you, a comforting presence now just a memory.

In the stillness, it’s almost as if he’s there with you, a spectral companion through the lonely nights.

The separation, the distance, teaches you a harsh lesson about love. It’s in the spaces between your meetings, in the time apart, that you begin to understand what love truly means.

It’s not just the presence of someone beside you, but the longing, the ache for their presence, that defines it. You don’t want to be out of time, out of sync with him, even if the physical distance separates you.

The paper cuts in your hand, reminders of your love, tell you that you are not alone, that he’s still a part of you.

You lift your gaze once more, staring into the dark sky. You wish you could cut through the veil of darkness, through the starless night that seems to stretch endlessly.

The paper cuts on your hand, illuminated by the light of your dreams and hopes, are a testament to the fragile nature of your desires.

Can he see them too?

Can he feel the same pain, the same longing?

The future you once dreamed of seems like a distant reality, a fragile hope that you still hold dear. You yearn for a day when the pain will fade, when the love that you and Héctor shared will become inseparable from your existence.

Until then, you stand alone in the night, holding onto the fleeting moments, the fragile paper cuts that tell the story of a love that transcends distance and time.