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To the first love

19 July 2019

Surely you do not remember me. He continued his life without needing my presence. But today in these lines I will let you know what you apparently couldn't understand before.

Maybe sometime in those days we spent together, he noticed what my heart felt ... his eyes often met mine, but his, today I understand, showed no love.

But now it is imperative for me to let you know what at that time you were not able to understand. I am judicious and to some extent reasonable, but these words could not hurry, I had to spend time before communicating what I felt at that time. When you left, I remained in love, not with your eyes, nor with your words ... only with the memory. I admit that many nights you were the protagonist of my dreams. My mind until recently remembered it as if the years that have passed were not the twenty that time counted.

Look, lately I found your memory clinging to me more, and that delirium then began to be unbearable. Do not misunderstand me, it is not my desire that these lines disturb your consciousness or make you feel sorry or regret. And if he is thinking that if in these years he had not been able to take his memory away from mine, it may be because there is probably something wrong with me ... remember that you too, although he never told me, had almost been a kind of love towards me I might think that you have turned those walks and long talks into oblivion. You, who took my hand and hugged my body. Yes, you, who, one day, did not look for my hand, or my body… Not knowing where to look for him, because you know I tried, for a few days I was forced to give up daily life. Many days with their nights I passed into oblivion. More on purpose: you know that I don't blame you, that you don't speak hate, nor anger, nor anger. I am now a person who over the years has become a woman made and right. That he has not needed love to feel fulfilled and that his memory was not an obstacle for love to enter. I must confess, that on several occasions I tried to give up the longing by directing my attention to some suitors. When I knew that I couldn't fall in love with you alone, I blamed you. I must express to you that I thought that for a long time. And in the sleepless nights, those in which he was so present, I considered what had gone wrong. The reason for his departure or disinterest in my life. I wanted, for not wanting to let go of his memory, to deceive myself thinking that you were the culprit of my lack of love, but like that of all people my heart is capable of feeling love, that's why I knew that your memory was not the problem. The issue was me: although my heart loved, I could not harbor the feeling for a long time, so why waste time? Both mine and pretensos.

Today I tell him that the love I had for him, the love that I kept for too long since he was no longer receiving attention, has then gone rancid, emanating a sweet smell of death and leaving me no other option has already been left aside, lying in place from where he never comes back. From today on the words his memory is also embodied in black and white. I return in these lines the twenty years of memories and satisfied to have confessed my most intimate feelings the memory is finally released ... your memory moves away ... and I will not try to stop it.

Something else would have to be said to you: that, if you kept any memories or feelings, please feel free, unleashed from any allusion you might have of me. And I conclude that if you never read these words, it will be because fate demanded, however, perhaps someone will read them ... so do not rush into anything. We have both been released.


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