You fall in and out of love with people until you land somewhere that makes sense. Encore faut-il que cela se produise!

One day, the presence of your past is like needles pricking you over every inch of your skin; the next one you have become so acquainted with the sting that you hardly notice the needles at all. 

Every relationship I began started with thoughts of how to put an end to it. And that’s all because of you, remember that night when we were sitting in the balcony, the moon was showing enough mercy to allow our faces to glow in the dark. We did not talk much, for the moon was getting higher and the chilly weather. The air felt like a cold bath into which colder water is trickling constantly, the temperature decreased and decreased. The trees were saying "We are alive!" and the small flowers answering "We are almost alive!"

In respect of my feelings you just sat motionless with ennui next to me and listened to what I had to say about us, without a word coming out from your mouth. When I asked you "What’s your next step? Are we going to stay friends?" You replied by a simple "Yes", stood up from your seat, hugged me for one last time and left forever from my life and I went back, once again in my false hopes, with lots of "what ifs?", and "how ifs?". 

The night pursued by stabs of cold air. And I really fucked it up this time, didn’t I my dear? Didn’t I? - Mumford and Sons.

You didn’t reply to my messages and I didn’t reply to yours. And now it’s been 5 years that we haven’t talked of this or even mentioned it, if we met accidentally we pretended to be happy to see each other, we pretended to be friends, and we tried not to be too sarcastic or too mean. 

You try by any mean to show how your life is better than mine and I do the same with yours. I ask our common friends if they have hints about your life without giving them the feeling that I want to know what’s going on in your life, and you do the same. 

One day I just forgot your face. The next, I forgot your smell. Then your touch. Then your laugh, your smile, your jokes, your eyes, your hair, your hands, your feet, your fingers, your toes, your pulses and how you used to say that they belong to me. I forgot your words, and I finally forgot the voice that spoke them.

Now I am on that path where I don’t want to store you away in an attic, but I was told to leave you behind so that I can move on. You are just a memory that will stay in a drawer. I don’t want to meet you for a coffee and remember those days we spent together. Maybe bottling up memories and throwing them in the ocean is the right option, maybe waves of life will bring back the bottle or they won’t.