In is not there to be heard. I swear

In
the beginning of the new year, Giuseppe gathered one of his most recurrent
thoughts. He knew that one of the best ways to ease up one’s emotions is to
write it down and contemplate. And so he began transcribing his mind.

 

To
whom it was and will always be,

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You
are a flower and I am your bee. I am a wave and you are my sea. You never had
to steal my breath away. Somehow, you have always managed to sway me to hand it
over to you freely. I would love to say that you make me fragile in the knees.
But to be completely truthful and quite frank, you make my body forget it has
knees at all. When you leave, it storms. The sky screams and weeps. The seas,
the oceans, the lakes and the rivers are witnesses. You come home and it is
painted once more, of colors that the waters love to reflect.

I
never want to be away from you again. Except when we are at work, in the
restroom or when one of us is at a movie the other does not want to see.

But
an ocean of difference exists between making love and being made by it. There
is no face when I turn. There are no answers when I call out. I persuade myself
of invented footsteps, of a humming that is not there to be heard. I swear I
can smell you even though you never passed by. I have lived so long with the
phantoms of your presence. I promise there is still a room for the flesh of
you.

What
if I would have been the great quest, the one thing in this life that you will
always regret never exploring? Leap, I will build you wings and I will set you
free.

I
promise you that I will try harder to be better. I have fought with things
inside me for longer than you know. I do not have a clue on what they are or
why they are there. I only know that they feel manageable and I can overcome
them when I am around you. Perhaps because strength is something we stroll
into. Perhaps it is lost inside us; around warped pathways and over mountains
we have created from the mounds we were offered with. Perhaps it is only when
we let ourselves to become lost as well, that we can ever stumble headfirst
into our strengths. I have an ocean of courage submerged somewhere deep inside
me. I know this because I taste the salt falling into streams down my cheeks
every time I cry.

Just
how unique this human experience is, that we all just wish to be the most
important thing on Earth to someone else. 
I know I cannot have too much of anything or I will ruin it. If I want
to keep things beautiful and poignant, I must find the time to miss them.

When you have swum in the sea, the lake
will no longer do. Everyone else was a pond, but the ocean was always you.

It was always you.

 

x

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