Yesterday I was telling you that my love is calm. And sometimes it just sounds like a melody played by a flute. This morning I woke up at 7 because I had the feeling that my heart was beating so loudly when I thought of him in my sleep, in my dreams, that I needed to wake up. Yesterday I was telling you that my love did not suffocate me anymore. This morning I had to wake up because my heart did suffocate me. Consciously or not consciously, still asleep or not, I felt that my love was heavy and weights on my chest. But not in a negative way. Just physically. I love him so much. I just felt the weigh of that love, of my heart. Really. Physically. I did not invent it. It is just a natural phenomenon. My love is big. The organ of love is the heart. So my heart weights.
Consciously or not consciously, maybe I was still asleep, I remember at 5 this morning, when I woke up the first time because of my heavy heart, I said to myself – I would ask him to marry me. I, who never once thought of marriage the last ten years. I would marry him in white, in purple, in pastel, in whatever color. I would marry him because people say that the marriage even though useless and is just a piece of paper, is supposed to be the ultimate proof of love. So if people say that, I would do it. If I could do anything to prove my love to him, I would do it. Because I just know that it would be the right thing to do. For me to sleep the whole night without waking up in the middle of it, for that heart to be less heavy, I need to sleep next to him. He would bear that love in my bed, helping me to take away the weigh of my heart. For me to hear the melody of that flute in my head again, I need to hold his hands while falling asleep.
My love is calm yet determined.
Yesterday I could live without him.
This morning the idea is an utopia.
*** Sculpture “Mujer meditando” (Woman on meditation) by José Kuri Brena
“I wasn’t in love with her. And she didn’t love me. For me the question of love was irrelevant. What I sought was the sense of being tossed about by some raging, savage force, in the midst of which lay something absolutely crucial. I had no idea what that was. But I wanted to thrust my hand right inside her body and touch it, whatever it was.” (South of the Border, West of the Sun – Haruki Murakami)