Few hours ago, I finally decided, for the third time, to say goodbye. You helped me a lot, thanks. It was like if you cheated: reading my mind. I confessed my thoughts to my friend and you cited, word by word my feelings. I can't promise this is the last goodbye. I’m afraid not and I'm hoping truly it is. Not for lack of love, you know why.
I'm still wearing your hoodie, in few days I'll drop it at your house, with your book and stuff. I gave back your key and recovered mine.
And didn't cry because you know is not worth it. Besides... your coldness went to my lachrymals, and they're a bit useless, frozen. I would cry snow, or little pieces of hail. It would be painful. Not as much as the little wounds we carved in each others' tripes.
I think, at that instant, saying goodbye gave me happiness, to stick out that stuck stuff out of my throat –it didn’t let me express. Do you remember? The lucky chinese cookie told me to express, you didn’t let me. “Too much closeness” –your silent argument- and I finally gave your space back. Now what! you don't want it?
Just one day at the time, like AA, I won’t suffer your absence this day… just this day.
How did all of this started? I guess we were in the right/wrong- time/place. And even from a platypus, as Beppo would say, we would fall in love with. You’ll meet him one day.