The last tear I dropped off must have been yesterday. Maybe for seeing you sad, maybe for seeing me being someone else. Maybe for seeing us being others.
The last smile I drew must have been yesterday. Maybe because you were whispering nicknames in my ear, maybe because you were laughing at me dancing, maybe because I felt really me. Maybe because I felt free.
We’re not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. We’re obstinate, willful and stubborn. Three forms of the same thing. We respect our space and move forward cautiously, perhaps with a slight fear of betraying our essence and becoming blurred. And sometimes, without knowing it, we get lost in the labyrinths of our dreams. Because we both dream. Awake and asleep, on the bus to work or in the shower, hugging in bed or alone in our silence. But now we can also dream together.
I don’t know if the start matters. That day everything was a little bit the same to me. I was still living off the inertia of a movement generated years ago, with the doubt of whether one day I would stand up like a tin soldier waiting for someone to wind me up. That inertia led me to an unknown house to mingle with unknown men and execute my indolence one more day. Not feeling, not thinking. Close to the bottom, I guess.
I never had any great misfortunes, nor did my heart get pounded by irrational gunshots, nor did I spend long nights in a state of disconsolate sleeplessness and misunderstanding with a good reason. I cried what we all cried. And I laughed more than most, no doubt. But sometimes there was something pressing on my chest like someone squeezing an orange. And I felt like I was drying up.
On that floor, I saw you more naked than dressed, looking at me with the shy face of someone who wants to come closer and doesn’t know if he should. You smiled with somewhat sad eyes but without knowing it you refreshed the suffocation of that room, full of sex and sordidness. It didn’t take long for us to talk, to get out of there and lie down alone on my flat. And the first day you hugged me as if you would never stop. That hasn’t changed.
“I like to be alone, I like my space, don’t let them step on me, don’t let them come in, stay away from my possessions, but at the same time come in for God’s sake, let’s play together, go away now but come back later but not too close but close enough to… drive us crazy”. That’s what I told myself at the beginning, putting all the existing limits to my space and my intimacy and building walls that were made of cardboard in the end.
It seems that your magic is too effective, your soul too noble, your skin too addictive and your patience too infinite. I was not looking for a savior to rescue me, nor a messiah to enlighten me, nor a leader to guide me, nor anyone to redeem me from my sins. I wanted to need no one. But no one better than you to come and look at me as in these photos and know that I am full and safe in the storm and in the calm.