The Decadence Chronicle. Episode 117: Stranger

Translating directly from Spanish to English, or the other way around, brings… confusing results. I won’t waste each other’s time with some amusing examples (which -perhaps,- might be the final push you need to learn Spanish, anyway.) Though, there’s one word worth mentioning, that comes to my mind quite often, lately: “Extraño.” As a noun and an adjective, it translates to “Stranger.” But it’s also the conjugation of the verb “Extrañar”, which is “To miss.” As in “Te extraño.”

I miss you.

Just a few weeks ago, we were total strangers. Lived our separate lives completely unaware of each other’s existence in this planet. We breathed, ate, loved and fucked in a world empty of one another. We went around the same city, walked the same streets, saw the same things and experienced every single little detail of our everyday life; all at a stone throw from our respective paths. Never to be met.

Or were them? Or were we?

I’ve lived my whole life in a constant state of wonder. I seek something. An unclear idea, blurred by years of feeling that I’m getting closer to it, whatever it is; although the shorter the perceived distance becomes, the more abstract this concept turns, and the more it fucking eludes me. A big “fuck you” to any logic, to reason, and to my inner peace.

You said you feel weird when I stare into your eyes with my “loving eyes.” What you don’t know is that they find in yours something I’m not used to. A peculiar sense of stillness, of unparalleled calmness. They find peace. I find peace. And my mind fears this. It refuses it. For, who am I if not a man drowning at sea, in the very heart of an eternal brainstorm?

But, fuck it, right? Fuck the fear!

C, my dear stranger. There’s so little I know about you, and so much of it that I already miss. Because I’m no longer stranger to you. To your hands, inappropriately touching me in public. To your “angry feminism” and your selfless selfishness. To your odd kissing. To your roughness in bed. To your free spirited nature. To your shallowness and your depth. And to so much more that is left to learn.

“I’ll think about you in the hard times,” you said, before leaving. To protect myself, I pretended I didn’t care. You probably saw right through me. So here I am. Writing to cope with your absence. Thinking about you, every single day.

Te extraño, kiddo.

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