It hits me, in moments like these. Not in the summer, under the burning sun. Neither in the Friday bars at work nor having beers with friends. Never in those occasions, no. It’s on the bike ride home, when the wind starts blowing and it’s dark and chilly. It’s right when I open the door to my apartment and all the lights are off. It’s, like now, when I put on some relaxing music and it’s raining and cold outside and I think about you. Right here, right now, when a lonely tear comes keep me company when nobody else does. A whole year and three months of this fucking feeling, in these fucking moments, on my own.
It’s not that I don’t love myself. On the contrary, my self-esteem is thriving. Thanks to you, I hit rock bottom. But I got up again. Stronger, more resilient, and proud. It’s a great sensation. I’m no longer afraid of being responsible and accountable for my life and actions. I take the lead of my own path and trust the road. Though the going gets hard, specially in these drops of unhappiness I gotta swallow, in bitter daily doses.
I got a molar removed this Monday. “Fractured tooth,” the dentist said; “Impossible to save.” And this can get me on a tangent where I bitch and complain about privilege, and compare my awful country’s healthcare and welfare with Denmark’s. But no. I’m playing this game of life with the cards I was given. It’s sad, I know. But it’s sadder that the only people I’ve told so far are a couple of colleagues. This is not the kind of thing you tell people you know for only a couple of months! This is what I’ve would have told you, for fuck’s sake!
As you can see, I’m getting emotional here. Hard not to. But maybe you are glad I am, who knows? The thing is that I’m lacking that sense of care I got from you. Life has taught me that this is not something to take lightly, nor ever for granted. It’s never guaranteed, you see? Fucking people and their selfishness; it’s goddamn appalling. I can’t say it was real, though. Your concern, your affection. With you, sadly, everything was always in the Realm of Deception. But genuine or not, it felt fucking real to me. And I really miss it, in this moment and all the moments alike.
Just like you can’t separate the art from the artist; I cannot look back at our relationship without the enormous toll it took from me. And yet, every night I long for your candor in the darkness. You, turning around and saying “Goodnight” with a kiss in my mouth. My arms around you, my head sunken in the sea of your hair. And naked. Always naked and warm.
Now I’m always naked, in bed at night. And every night. Alone.
Do you miss me too? I’m curious. Even if irrational, absent of logic and secluded from dignity. Even against your most trusted advisors and best judgement. Eyes closed, alone or accompanied in your bed, when you are slowly drifting away… Do you miss me too?

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