⚠WARNING: This is a translation. It could contain grammatical errors.
Eight years has passed since the last time we have seen each other and you were there, sitting in the same place where I saw you for the first time.
You were there very quiet and waiting for my arrival. Away from the people, alone and in the darkness.
I come closer and we smile, we treat each other like old friends. We start to walk and we caught up about our lives.
I noticed that you changed physically for the better. Now you look more mature and adult. This new image suits you, even more attractive to me. But you are no longer the same person that I knew many years ago. Your innocence, your sweetness that I fell in love with in the past, has gone.
The sin and the experience are reflected on you. You are a friendly but distant person, you are no longer affectionate, you are not adorable, you don’t have that charm, now you are the same like others.
For many years I felt that you were the love of my live and I could never get you out of my head, maybe you still are, but finally I realized that I never was yours. You had another story much longer and stronger than ours; that was very important to you in the same way you were important to me. But I’m ok with this; that don’t make me mad. Because that story belongs who you are now and I not belongs to this person, I belong to the person who you were in the past, the guy you hidden, the guy you sheltered.
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