Mixpov

I’ve wrapped in my robe and dragged myself to the kitchen. The worst part of being alone is the lack of silence, so I seek paper and pencil and write this to you, to get it all out, and leave the emptiness rolling in my head. Sometimes nothing is better. I’m drinking some coffee; I don’t want to sleep tonight. Is it night? I’ll avoid the pills; after all, it’s been months since I dreamed of you, whether awake or asleep makes no difference.

With this letter, I will pass, allow me to let you go, even though I only wish to be by your side. I want to leave this idea here on this paper, and the ironic and even funny thing is that this thought makes me understand that this is not a possibility.

To summarize the current status of the cycle I transit, I would have to say that all I do is wander between asleep and awake. There’s nothing left of the scent of us in any room. In fact, the atmosphere in the apartment is simply too low to the point where I can hardly breathe. I suppose the mix of darkness and cigarette smoke has changed the ecosystem, but I really can’t open a window and let the air in. The reality outside is too bright, and I’m more on the taciturn side of the night; I decided to stay there some time ago.

Anyway, if there’s one thing I learned from your departure, it’s that the clearer the light, the darker the shadow.

You know I always knew I wasn’t good for you; what I didn’t see coming is that being without you wasn’t good for me. And now I’m here asking myself: how the loneliness and I going to survive in a world full of people?

I have to hurry because I lied. I took the right amount of pills with half a cup of coffee to be sufficiently intoxicated and not feel fear of a reality where I can’t stay with you. The truth is, I am weak; I always was and always will be, even though you always told me otherwise.

I’m going to light a cigarette and lie down. This is a new exercise I call flying low. I’m sorry I lied; I think it’s the only way to avoid so much…

You are here but really gone; that’s so unfair. It’s me, right? It’s my turn; it’s time for me to go, to walk without time, to seek a better place.

Goodbye.