WHEN THE STORM COMES

Monday, February 20, 2017


I can't recall the last time I wrote to you. Nor the last time I talked to you. 
But you know, when you have something to say, when your chest is about to explode and can't hold on to that thought anymore, you have to find your way through the chaos and tell your story, no matter if you are the only soul who's gonna listen. Those words have to break free.

See, if we were here, together, in this same bed that's now cold and half empty, I would tell everything to you and you would listen, closely, paying attention to the details: the way my lips would brush against each other every time a word is spoken; how I would stare at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact, afraid of your opinion. But as much as I like that thought, you won't listen to my words again, and the image of you slowly disappears, it washes away, carrying everything that once belonged to us.
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We were made of the same particles that make two poles exactly the same, the ones you stick to the fridge and force to stay attached against their nature.
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To be completely honest with you, I knew we were screwed from the very beginning. I knew we couldn't work things out and that we were much more similiar to each other than we would ever admit. We were like magnets, and not the opposite kind; we were made of the same particles that make two poles exactly the same, the ones you stick to the fridge and force to stay attached to each other beyond their nature.

Truth to be told, science knew better and we should have listen: magnetism, as I now recall from science class, is a powerful force that causes the attraction of opposites; it's the unknown that draws people to each other's arms and boy if I knew you, all of you, because I knew myself and you and I are just the same person in two completely different bodies.
And you know what happens when two identical people try to find their way to each other? They'll drown trying. Because not matter how hard you want it to work, the first time you'll fight will be devastating, and you go on and on, arguing and fighting and screaming until the rain will turn into downpour then snow and hurricane and by the time the storm will come, you can be sure, it will get to you.
And I am too worn out to be standing in the rain. Again.

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