More a hyperbole of my conscience than anything else. It looked like as if I were looking for her in a world fragmenting around me, and I almost tried to blame her for not wanting me, as if I were trying to be nonchalant. But as I searched for her, I felt my heart explode, like three years ago, a consuming feeling of inadequacy at not being able to give this person the immensity of love I felt for her.
I don’t remember the images of the dream; they were very strange, very deconstructed. I also dreamed, at the same time, of a version of her who lovingly desired me, but who became increasingly distorted and horrifying the more I looked at her, as if I were trying to deceive reality with my fake imagination and lying to myself.
I thought it was something I'd gotten over, but it still hurts every time it comes back to mind. That day of October when I saw you for the last time was a spiral of immense pain that I tried to consume everywhere. I searched for my reason in the Blackpill, in the desperate, the miserable. I searched for justifications, irrefutable, axiomatic truths that could absolve me from these nightmares, but as you can see, I continued to look for you even in the echo of agony.
My appearance may invalidate the depth of my feelings, but know that my heart can never replace you, even if my love was unrequited. In all the anguish I am facing, know that the memory of you has continued to be my cure and my reason for living. All the statements I make and the resentment I carry inside will never measure up to the emotion I felt seeing you return every day. You are the most important thing in my life, and if I ever decide to end it for myself, I want you to know that I will die with the memory of you, your soft hands gently resting on me in the afterlife.
Ti amo.
I don’t remember the images of the dream; they were very strange, very deconstructed. I also dreamed, at the same time, of a version of her who lovingly desired me, but who became increasingly distorted and horrifying the more I looked at her, as if I were trying to deceive reality with my fake imagination and lying to myself.
I thought it was something I'd gotten over, but it still hurts every time it comes back to mind. That day of October when I saw you for the last time was a spiral of immense pain that I tried to consume everywhere. I searched for my reason in the Blackpill, in the desperate, the miserable. I searched for justifications, irrefutable, axiomatic truths that could absolve me from these nightmares, but as you can see, I continued to look for you even in the echo of agony.
My appearance may invalidate the depth of my feelings, but know that my heart can never replace you, even if my love was unrequited. In all the anguish I am facing, know that the memory of you has continued to be my cure and my reason for living. All the statements I make and the resentment I carry inside will never measure up to the emotion I felt seeing you return every day. You are the most important thing in my life, and if I ever decide to end it for myself, I want you to know that I will die with the memory of you, your soft hands gently resting on me in the afterlife.
Ti amo.
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