It's a rainy day. You can hear the sound of the strong wind through the window and the sound of rain falling on the roof. There's silence all over the house, except for my unbroken crying. I feel cold, lying on the bed, holding the pillow that still smells like her. I didn't think it was possible to suffer so much for someone — until she leaves me.
Since that day, my heart has broken in a way I don't know if there's any restoration. It's like a part of me has been taken and the part that's left behind doesn't work normally. Not without her.
Yeah, that's my love.
All I wanted was to talk to her one more time, tell her everything that got stuck in my throat, and that I didn't get a chance to put out. But she left before that. She didn't give me a choice, and she didn't give me a chance to say the final word.
And now, I feel like I carry the weight of the world, beyond a hole where the feelings I cultivated were, not knowing that they would be ripped out at once and anyway.
But I can still feel it. There's a hole in my chest that hurts every time I picture her. Her soft voice, her fiery red hair, her intoxicating eyes, and her overpowering touch.
Besides, there's your name. It means "gift," just like I felt when she came into my life. It was like a gift I never thought I was worthy of. But she kept saying I was everything she dreamed of — until she leaves me.
I don't know what were the reasons that made her go. I don't know what I did to get her to make that decision, but I'd like to know why. I even tried calling, left a bunch of messages, contacted family and friends, but no one knew anything.
She hides away, like a ghost.
Sometimes I find myself wondering if it was difficult for her to leave everything behind, pack her bags while I was at work and if she thought about my sadness when I got home. What about the memories? Didn't it hurt to think of all the memories we had together?
Does she know that we bleed the same?
I smile with tears in my eyes as I remember how we met. Isadora needed a place to live and I needed someone to share the rent. She was this independent, courageous woman, while I was a shy, insecure guy. In a few months, we were best friends and her presence revealed the best in me.
I was vulnerable, without emotional walls to break down. It was just me with all my flaws and qualities. And when she left, she rejected everything we built together.
Don't wanna cry but I break that way.
We used to talk about everything. I thought I knew her better than anyone. However, I was wrong. When I see the empty space in the wardrobe, I realize that mistake. And again, I find myself crying on her pillow as I have for the last two months, in a kind of invisible supplication and a little hope.
Cold sheets, but where's my love?
Like a shock passing through on my body, I get up and decide to look for her again. I've done it in all the days before, but I believe this time will be different.
The rain has passed and the full moon shines above me. My curly black hair sways with the strong wind and I exude the characteristic smell of wet earth.
I decide to go to the beach — her favorite place — and feel the calm breeze tickling my face. I run through the sand moistened by rain in search of Isadora. My heart beats faster, my breath starts to get cropped and I hear someone calling me:
— Diego — whispers in my ear.
I look around for the owner of that voice, but I can't find anyone. I run faster. I shout her name in the void of the night. I don't get an answer. I fall to my knees under the cold sand.
— Where are you, Isadora? — I scream in despair.
I am searching high, I'm searching low in the night.
I can't take this anymore. I can't bear not knowing where she is or if I'll ever meet her again. So I do the only thing that can help me right now, plan our reunion:
I'm sitting on the sand, facing the sea and she sits next to me. I can feel her sad eyes staring at me, but it doesn't say anything.
— Why did you leave?
— You wouldn't understand, Diego. — She runs her finger across my face. — But please, don't doubt that I love you.
I feel a tear fall down my cheek.
— I don't know if I can believe in a love that leaves.
I get up from the floor covered in sand.
—You were my best friend, my partner, and the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And when I was alone, I suffered like never before.
— I am so sorry.
— No, you don't. Because you're not even here.
Did she run away? I don't know.
I face the empty beach, just as I am on the inside. I say good-bye to that place and move on, knowing I've done everything in my power. Because no matter how many times I look for this woman, try to call her, or imagine our reunion, it's up to her.
Just come home.
Merci pour la lecture!
Nous pouvons garder Inkspired gratuitement en affichant des annonces à nos visiteurs. S’il vous plaît, soutenez-nous en ajoutant ou en désactivant AdBlocker.
Après l’avoir fait, veuillez recharger le site Web pour continuer à utiliser Inkspired normalement.