I’d Really Like Not To Think About You

I sit here in this cafe and wonder how much I would be willing to pay to forget it all. I don’t care about clothes. I would even sell my clothes and walk around naked. It can’t be much colder than how I feel right now, and the frost won’t hurt me much more than the pain that resides in the space between my glass and my lips.

The pain burns more violently than the alcohol, and I enjoy the deceptive hope that lurks in the shooting pains, like drops of rain falling on a rock. I imagine two worlds separated by a great abyss. You’re on one side and not the other and I feel like I couldn’t live on either side.

This isn’t the first time I’ve fallen in love. I’m telling you this so you don’t come to me with the reassuring words that it will all blow over. I am aware of that; I know the way pretty well, thanks.

I met him in a cafe similar to this cafe. He was behind the bar and I was looking for an ending for my novel. He thought I was drinking my grief away and I played the part well.

In this role I kept all my fears hidden, but all that happened because of this is that my fears escaped in places I didn’t know. Now I’m in another cafe, my heart broken into a thousand pieces.

I’m like a hard truth, someone who would put you at the very end of the line and only let you come forward when you’re completely out of ideas on how to avoid this. To avoid that point where everything explodes in your face and you realize there’s no going back.

Although I don’t know what kinds of glue are out there, I’ve come to the conclusion that no one kind of glue can repair the pain of your last fall. Dry, deaf and apparently even innocent. That’s the point where love turns into a bubble that you can’t touch, but you can’t take your eyes off either, until it bursts in the most terrifying silences.

In the meantime, you have a chance to figure out how to start telling everyone around you that the person you were willing to die for yesterday isn’t the same today. And that you can no longer be with him, because that role does not suit you. That’s how it is and the reality is getting clearer little by little. Like waves rolling further and further up the beach as the tide gets higher and higher and you’ve got all night to think about it.

Without looking at the clock, I suddenly have the feeling that it is already getting very late and that the waiter cleaning that last table will not be my inspiration for my next life.

Yet I am overcome by an extreme laziness. The idea of ​​having to walk home while constantly looking back, opening the gate, taking off my clothes and trying to keep warm under the covers  imposes a daily monotony on the world that is so overwhelming to me. 

I pay with all the ransom I have in my pocket and go out. It is freezing cold and you can easily slip. I see a lion drawn on a light board and wonder what would happen if I came face to face with a lion right now. Then I realize that I am invisible and that the lion can do nothing to me anyway.

A small voice in my head calls me a liar. The tears begin to draw lines on my cheeks. Just as I break the silence on the street with the sound of my footsteps, I suddenly feel a part of my heart begin to fear the lion.

At the same time, I realize that life can still take away a lot of things from me and I also come to the conclusion that some of those things are worth living for.

As sleep begins to take over my body, I begin to think about who could star in my next novel.