Old notes. Of a year and wondering.

May 7, 2017.


A year is composed by 365 days, that is to say…

In those 365 days, many things may happen, good, bad, tragedies, happiness.

In those 365 days, ideas and concepts can change from one day to another.

From one moment to another.

A year without you, a life with you gone, what would it be like? Where I know you are alive, somewhere I can not reach you, where we broke up not because of hate, or tiredness or lack of love, just because we are out of reach.

Would I keep writing you as if you were a ghost unable to read my letters?

Would I write this for you in hope that one day you may undersand what I thought in a certain moment of my life?

Or would I be writing them for myself?, as an idea I have of you, a sort of catarsis for my own actions.

What would life be like living single, married to a ghost. An undead, a thought of someone who may or may not be alive, a person who is out there, or was…

Where walking down the street I feel your presence in my back as a witness from an scene, a melancholy, longing for days that have already become memories buried in the past.

As I write this, that is my wonder. Would I ever be able to become whole again with you gone? Would I live with the idea of your ghost? Smiling with sorrow as I walk passing street by street, moment by moment, alone and yearning, yet with a peace of mind and soul.

Could I become a lover once more? Or would I go along my life wearing a widower black for the joyful pain of losing you for your better future?.

This, I wonder.