It's been since that cursed day that I think it's like she's taken half my self away with her.
Actually, I should be more honest with myself admitting I left half my self with her, after rushing away.
This is why, as far as I write novels like the one entitled "Come back" (coming soon), I can't demand at all that she comes and give it to me back.
That cursed morning I'd woken up wrapping my arms around my legs. Well, you already know how tall I am, so that you can well imagine how ridiculous I could look in case somebody among my flatmates entered my room and found me wound like this. Anyway, I swung on my bed thinking of her, who was real, in the flesh, but thinking also of him - as imaginary as desired, attractive man.
At last I've found him, I've had him with me (even five years long). In other times Mr. "He" was just a good lay - only once.
The fact is that... after seven years I'm still crazy, insomuch as I still believe she's taken my self away.
After all this, people get surprised when I won't answer to my mobile, I have any will to talk to nobody. Is this so strange? Please, tell me if it's so strange I think of her like this after seven years. Please, leave a comment if you think that it's so strange that she called me, after six months from the last call, after seven years we've broken up asking me for my final decision.
Is it strange or not?
Am I confused, or not?
Am I still in love?
Or am I just desiring something similar to that old feeling? Am I simply missing something similar to it?
Can I come back, can I retrace my own steps? Who'll be believing in this, in my hypothetically renewed love?
Can you understand why I hate myself, why I can't risk to hurt her?
No, not anymore.