Beautiful stories always start on the platform of a train station. Empty platforms, crowds, trains not waiting, people not coming, phones not ringing.
Paradoxically, I was reading a book, a book in which all five stories lacked a happy ending. I was just happy to see you. I had no way of knowing how many nights those days would cost me. I had forgotten that I had lost my wings believing in people, I had forgotten that happiness is not permanent and people are temporary.
I was smiling at you and wondering what I was looking for there. I thought it would be the easiest moments of my life. It seemed so natural. That's probably why I had to figure out how hard it was going to be. I had forgotten what it means to open your soul, I had forgotten what it means to feel that you belong to someone, I had forgotten that behind some smiles lie so many question marks. I would open long-locked doors for you, relive the pain and present you with the worst part of me. It was just me at the worst possible time. I was telling you things that I would not have had the courage to say out loud before. The water was cloudy, the waves couldn't stop ending, and I unwittingly told you an untold story.
It seemed like the most natural thing to do. Your silence should have said a lot, only I didn't hear anything. I felt the memories so intensely, it hurt so much and I continued to undress my soul because that's what I felt.
I admit, I don't know how to offer in pieces. It's like when the storm starts: it washes the streets, but it wipes everything in its path from the face of the earth. I didn't even feel you entering my soul. I didn't even feel like I had started offering everything until it was too late. I listened to you sketch stories and smiled at you like a naive child. You were talking and I was imagining it.
It was so good. I didn't know I had to keep my balance because you were walking on the wire. I followed you, I let the smiles sketch stories, I blindfolded myself and I hoped I wouldn't collapse. I was tall, but I felt safe as long as I heard your voice. And one day he stopped. I stopped and waited. I didn't understand what was happening. I was afraid to open my eyes. If the day had turned into the night. I just waited. And you're back. It's just that this time I had to step forward. You started over. You stayed on the sidelines and told me to walk. I could hear your voice more and more vaguely until it disappeared completely. That was the moment when I knew without opening my eyes that it was night. I knew what was coming. I knew we were on two different sides, I knew that stories remain stories and I knew you had to become one. I just wasn't ready to do that yet.
Beautiful stories always start on the platform of a train station. Many times it ends there, only on a different day. They start on a hot summer day, when the sun shines on your face and ends on a day when the cold enters your bones. They start with a smile and end in tears and disappointments. I start in two and finish them in one.
No, I didn't imagine we were going to be the sixth story in the book. The turmoil I experienced in a few days was the fine line between learning to fly and falling into emptiness. I threw myself before catching wings and the result was desolate.
You found me whole and left me in pieces.
