Gooooddamn. I used to be such an emo-bitch. Even more so than now. It’s a terrible thing to stumble across old secret files my teen-aged self had squirreled away into the confines of my hard drive. It’s a mostly unwelcome blast from the past.
Earlier you asked what falling in love was like and you got off before I could say something. I can’t say exactly what it’s like, I just know that now I feel more alive and I’m not sure that it’s how I want to feel.
I miss the ease of conversations past.
There was one point in my past when Life finally seemed to possess a stunning clarity. It came with this epiphany: “It is my little way of making the little things in my life feel just a tad more important than they really are.”
Of course, I am referring to that time-honored mostly female quality of melodrama.
I read your words and I realize that you remember everything I told you. How startling and refreshing such a revelation is. You really have no idea what that means to me. You asked me before to please save you. Now I wish that you would come save me from this immense mess I now find myself in, but I think there is a cataclysmic rift between us because of my weakness and idiocy.
I can’t recall where this is from:
And a last request. Remember: A kiss, that is the world.
You seem awfully joyful this night, she says.
Oh? What gives it away so easily? he asks.
That smile, and the way it trembles so when you try to suppress it, she replies.
The odd pair sits some distance apart on the gazebo bench. His guarded eyes are directed towards the sky; hers, on the grain of the wood beneath her feet.
And how are you feeling tonight? he ventures.
The same. Day in and day out, she says. At least you seem to be in a good mood for a change.
It’s difficult to be melancholy, he says.
This coming from you frightens me, she says.
Take it as it is, he says. You’re making me feel as if this is wrong.
Well, well! Now you sound like yourself, she exclaims.
You’re patronizing me, he murmurs.
Not in the slightest, she sighs.
Fireflies. A swarm suddenly engulfs them and she laughs in delighted surprise. He merely sits back and waits for them to pass. She jumps up to twirl with them, as if she could dance just as gracefully. He watches her. Something tugs at his heart. Something wants him to listen. But he just watches her. It has been a long while since they’d last spoken. He doesn’t know how to talk to her anymore. He is broken out of his reverie by the utterance of his own name. She has spun farther away and she wants him to follow.
Where are you going? he asks.
Wherever they deem fit! she replies.
I know you don’t worry about things like that, he says.
Like what? she asks.
Where you are going. What will you do. How you will do it. And with whom, he replies.
My life is my life. I am content, she says, slowly. The fireflies have by now dispersed, leaving her in a wash of moonlight. In this pallid view her exuberance seems to have disappeared. He does not want to worry her, but he also knows there are limits to isolation, and he can bear it no longer.
Society’s constraints carry no weight? he asks.
What is it that you really want to talk about? she ventures.
He is always caught off guard by her perceptiveness. He fumbles his words.
I think I’m leaving, he says.
Where to? she asks.
I don’t really know, he says.
Why? she asks.
I don’t want to say boredom, because it is so much more than that, he says. I feel like I’m wasting my life, experiencing the same things every day. I asked you here today to tell you, so that someone knows what I’m doing.
This is the most you have said to me in a long time, she says.
I know, but I thought you should know, he sighs. I want to disappear for a while. I want to move outside of society. I want to do and see without any constraints. I don’t want what you want. I don’t think I could be happy with what you want.
And what is it that you believe I want? she asks.
Tradition. Simplicity. The basic things that we are taught to desire in life. A circle of loved ones, friends and family. A fairly prosperous career to afford the exorbitant standard of living we are convinced is necessary. You want children. You want to spend the majority of your life in a sanctified marriage. I don’t want any of that, he says.
You don’t want a family? You don’t want children? What do you want? she asks.
Simply put: I want EVERYTHING. I want to spend my life with someone who shares my sentiments. I want to spend my time devoted to the pursuit of discovering myself a mentally, emotionally, and physically. I want to share those experiences with one person. My soul mate. And if I have to spend the majority of my journey in search of that person, I would already feel fulfilled because at least I would be actively looking for her and learning about life along the way, he says. I want to find her. I want to learn everything about her. I want her to teach me what she knows. And I want to show her all that is me.
You might find this question odd, but did you ever think I was her? she ventures.
I’m too lazy to find out where I stole it from all those years ago.
One thought on “Voglio fare l’amore con tu.”
i like that last part.