You slowly tired. Not in one step, but in thousands of small steps. When you give a little more every day. To yourself. When she exceeds the limits you promised yourself to never go beyond. When you remain silent to avoid conflicts. When you smile even if you hear a tear in the throat.
The last time does not suddenly take place. It comes slowly. It is not a decision, but an awareness.. It insinuates itself slowly through small cracks, in everyday silence, in long evenings without vision. With years of disappointments that accumulate like dust.
With months of silence that scream stronger than any argument. After weeks you pass to convince me that perhaps it is still possible … that perhaps there is still hope in the darkness that surrounds us … … that we have not yet completely disappeared The others with the heart.
It happens slowly.
It remains motionless for the last time. In the air, among us, like something we both hear but we don’t say. Like an invisible fog that we both see but we pretend that it is not there. Like the pain that becomes so daily that it almost does not recognize it.
I was tired.. Tired to the core. From explanations that remained unanswered, such as letters sent to the wrong address. From meaningless hugs that have only become a habit, not a necessity. In seeing you drifting, while you were since some more part, in a world where you hadn’t invited me. It is as if I were looking at me through, as if I had become invisible.
Your absence was worse than any start.. Because you were here, but at the same time there was no one. Because I could reach your hand, but not your heart. Because I could hear your voice, but not your thoughts. Being alone is one thing, but being alone with the person you love is a special hell.
I was there.
With a body that still waited for your touch. With a heart that still hoped for a miracle, even if the reason had long knew the truth.
Everything I wanted to tell you, I already told you one hundred times.. In one hundred ways. With words, with looks, with touches, with tears. And you – yet and yet – have not heard. You heard … and he didn’t move you. It’s like launching Sassolini in an abyss and waiting for an echo that never comes.
See also
I didn’t speak that day that day.
I haven’t convinced you anymore. I didn’t ask you anymore where I was – because I knew it. You were there, your body occupied space, but your mind was elsewhere. But you were no longer with me. You were the person next to whom I sat, yet I felt … alone. Like two strangers who share a space but have nothing more in common.
I metwho have become a habit for you. No choice, no desire, no priorities. Someone who is there. That will always be there. As a part of the apartment that no longer known. And you stopped choosing. Only you, next to me. Not with me. It is as if we were two people who live in parallel, but who in reality are no longer seen.
And then … I stopped
Not for anger and desire for revenge. Not for hatred that wants pain. Simply because I couldn’t.. Because there was too empty among us that no hug could have brought. Too silence that no conversation could cover. That silence in which a person disintegrates – slowly, imperceptibly. Those in which you are in the same space, but you are no longer present inside, you are only an external image of what you were once.
I left.
No drama. No wordwhich would do nothing but repeat what has already been said. Because I have already said everything, every request, all hope, every warning. Because you have already heard all this, like those who do not want to hear the truth.
The last time I fought for us … that sometimes the greatest proof of love is not to stay, but leave, when you know that you are no longer the sun for the other, but the shadow.
