- Who isn't?
- If I tell her half of the truth and keep the rest absent, I'll have to come up with several excuses.
She brought me home. Cut me half.
It's funny how I longed for simplicity, yet the harder I tried, the more complex my life became. "Didn't I tell you?", you said. You said it so loud that I couldn't hear back then. It's not that I didn't want to, I just couldn't hear you. Blame my reckless side. Blame me for everything. Blame me. "Why can't you see things I see?" you asked. I saw but I didn't quite observe them. I didn't understand them. I didn't take them seriously. I just didn't feel them the way you did. You left without saying a word. Or did you? If so, that little note must had been your last goodbye. "Let me go so I can let you go. I love you. But I can't anymore.", that's what you wrote. "But I Can't"... I don't blame you. I never did. Looking at those words make me realize how suffocated we were of each other. You couldn't spell word by word how you wanted me to love you. You were hoping that I could learn it by myself. I did. Just not the way you hoped for. And now that I realize what you realized, it makes me understand how you felt when you told yourself "But I can't".
People ask me why. Why? Why not, that's all I say. They find it surprising how such a guy like me can let things the way they are. Why can't I? Because you're not supposed to! What makes you think I'm not supposed to? And so they all sit down quietly and anxiously, focusing on my lips waiting for me to start: my story. I don't like nor dislike the attention. Everybody needs a bit of that, the sense of importance sometimes. Doesn't matter how long it lasts... It might last a lifetime, or as short as a sparkle. Either way, we don't reject the attention. My story. I don't know where to start. Maybe I should ignore the sequences and just say whatever comes up to my mind. I remember the hottest day back then. People could barely spend 10 minutes without having an ice-cream. And guess what, I only had one of those old and not well functioning fans at home. I was always sweating like a pig, that was the way she used to describe me: PIG. There she was trying on her new lingerie in my room. She couldn't have picked a better day to do so... She was gorgeous. Too pretty. There were times when I thought I was holding a Barbie's hand... grabbing her plastic boobs. Her waist was tiny. Her butt juicy. Her legs long and silky. Man, I looked like a a cockroach next to such beauty! It was like Beauty & The Beast version 2005. And the way she made me feel like a complete idiot next to her didn't help much. Let's be honest, every man next to her wouldn't be able to think with brains. And I was always the idiot next to her. She would humilliate me in front of everybody, and then give me a kiss to compensate the hurt she caused me. I didn't mind at all. At the end of the day I get loads of kisses and more... How could I complain? I'm not really an idiot. So she was trying her lingerie when she suddenly said "Let's get married, don't ask me why." I didn't ask why. All I said was OK. And so we went. The next day after sweats and moans, she turned to me and said "I'm bored. I need to get out of this place. No questions, ok?". No questions?! What the fuck was going through her mind?! No questions... But back then, I did what she told me: I didn't ask anything. I let her go. And off she went to Cuba. Cuba, for fuck sake... I didn't miss her while she was away. I was too busy to think about her. Or maybe she was too 'inside' me that I couldn't see her as another person, someone I could miss. You don't miss your own brain, heart, or liver, right? And yes, she was like that to me. She was part of me. Everything but not my heart.
