Psyche

I swear it is just like a light switch. The idea of you comes along and an instant and almost irrational wish to talk to you comes along to tell me that I miss you too much. It is as if I would be talking to a self that I left behind somewhere, different from me, as our times are different, but still too familiar not to feel as if something, someone, of my own. As if I had ever owned anything.

It is a kind a love even though no one else needs to know. It’s the love I should have for myself, it’s the love I have for all that I cannot truly have, it’s the love for the unknown, the love that I never knew how to feel, the love that bears no fruits, the love for the sake of love that means nothing at all to everyone but the one who feels it. It’s a love that’s not really love, a love that is there not to be felt but just to exist. Like a universal truth and a paradox when it comes to be felt. It embarrasses me for its intensity whilst it seems to lack any basis for a real existence. It makes me smile as if I’d found some lost piece of me though I feel like crying when I conclude that even though a piece was found, it’s not meant to be put together.

And I’ve cried over it though unknowingly. I’ve cried as I ran away from goodbyes, I’ve cried as I smiled for I’d never felt so happy and sad at the same time, I’ve cried in that fraction of a second between having you to hold and seeing you walk away, I’ve cried as if the moment in which I discovered who I was had came around again and, right then and there, I was 21 and the Summer had come to tell me it would all be ok.

But summers haven’t been the same in quite a while, not since the Winter came along and brought me those I can’t forget. Nothing has felt quite the same and though I miss nothing I miss everything, including myself with you, through Winters, Mid-Summers and the unbearable heat. I can still see you smiling if I look behind. I can still hear you laugh; I can still feel you as if I could actually touch you if only I took a couple of steps. I still struggle to understand why I questioned you when you did the unexpected things that I actually wished for. I still struggle to understand my social incompetence, my inability to behave, my harsh comments, my care for everything and anything, my attention to detail and the way I can be so sensitive to stupid stuff. And also all that you do, which is this and more. A vivid memory that I never want to forget, the thought of you comes along accordingly.

One day I found myself and after getting to know that stranger, ever so slightly, once I got to see that apparent differences actually mean nothing next to all that is so akin, I couldn’t stop my smile as I said: Pleasure to meet you.