I said goodbye to her and left. This was our final farewell. I knew it, and so did she. The last time I saw her, she was standing in the doorway, arms folded. She seemed about to say something, but didn’t. She didn’t have to say it out loud—I knew what she was going to say. I felt so empty. (Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman – Haruki Murakami)
We started our story a year ago on the day of the Street parade in our city. I left my friends in the middle of the frenetic fiesta and loud techno music to join him. The streets were full of people disguised with colorful and delirious costumes. I was excited to join him. We started our story right after that evening.
Today we met to say goodbye. Yesterday was the Street Parade, exactly one year after. The next day of the Street Parade is usually calm. People seem to rest from the crazy night. Here and there, the rest of the party, empty bottles, empty glasses on the streets. The city is quiet again.
We were lovers who had given to each other all we could. He had his own way to be with me. In selfishness and freedom. I got trapped in my love for him, stronger and stronger day after day. I was warned. I had always known he was not the kind of man who would settle down for me. Simply because he did not know how to love and even simpler he did not love me. I was warned but was still wanting to love him. I probably loved obstacles and challenges. My love was still true though.
I considered this love as a chance, a self-redemption, a way for me to be a woman, an adult, to get back to love and life. I had been with others for so long without having felt anything as special as this until him.
I had loved him for who he is. With his flaws and qualities. I had loved him without asking for anything and especially for nothing else than just the love felt for him.
At the beginning it sounded pathetic maybe but then it turned out to be all beauty and greatness. Pain never mattered to me that much. But one day I decided to become an adult and to want more from this relationship. He could not offer me anything else. First he did not believe in my love because of my past and my usual indifference and coldness to others. Now maybe he believes me a bit but it does not matter very much. No matter how we analyzed our story it all came down to one evidence: he did not feel anything else. And who knows what he had felt the last year when we kissed, when we laughed, when we embraced each other. But it was none of my business. Not anymore.
I had been proud to love him. Really.
Even if I am suffering now like a bleeding animal, hunted and wounded, I do wish to you all to have felt this kind of love once. Just once. You will see the difference from all the rest. Nothing can be compared to that feeling. But be prepared to be strong.
I had written 140 posts, more than 100 posts are about him, on him and dedicated to him. But this will be my last post on him. This love will now be locked up somewhere very far from me. This love will be frozen, not dead but frozen. This love should never be analyzed or decorticated again. It was accepted, cherished, grown and lived. He was the love of my life. But I read once somewhere “letting go means to come to the realization that some people are part of your history, but not a part of your destiny”.
Yesterday we kissed goodbye like adolescents saying goodbye after a flirt during summer vacations. It was tender, passionate and romantic but I was not an adolescent anymore. I would have loved that high and intense feeling a few months ago, when I was still immature.
I whispered into his left ear “I love you” and put my hand on his right ear so that the sound of these three words could stay there forever. It was symbolic and it was my last word to him. I omitted on purpose the word “forever”. Because it will not be true.
He said that the most important thing was that we had gotten along so well. And we will stay friends for the rest of our lives.
This will be my last post on him. Because all had been said about him. I felt so empty.