With a last feeling of anger, I walk away. It is time for me to become a bird.

--

Thinking of her mourning you, I cannot help to think that it should have been me instead of her. I should have been the one to cry over you. Instead, I hold my breath.

--

Your family has been warned. They are freaking out. Celia is devastated.
--

I can hear their whispers, their “How could this happen?” and their “I really wish I could have helped”. I can hear their guilty lies.

--

A body hits the ground, leaving nothing but a mess of blood and broken limbs.
--

The people on the streets scream in horror. They point with their dirty fingers. Some even try to look away in an attempt to protect an innocence that was never there to begin with. They are scared, and they are dancing like the scared little puppets that they are. Me? I am too angry to be scared.

--

Closing your eyes, you do what you promised me that you would not.

--

You walk away, forgetting your hat and leaving me with no better idea than to run after you in an attempt to return it.

--

For a second, I almost think I can catch a glance of sadness in your eyes. Then, you proceed to start telling me all about your new girl and how much you love her. Her name is Celia and she makes you really happy. You do not miss me at all. You are better off without me.

--

You tell me about your new girlfriend and I tell you about my new boyfriend. You ask me if I love him. No. I do not love him. He is not you. Still, I cannot tell you that now that you are with someone else. Lacking the ability to lie to you with words again, I simply nod.

--

On a cold day, we meet unexpectedly in a coffee shop. You are still as beautiful as ever.

--

Time goes by. We live our lives away from each other. 

--

That is it for us. You take your luggage out the door while I walk the other way. I am now the baggage you do not care to bring along with you, and you are the leaving train that I know it would be futile to run after.

--

“I will be leaving now,” you tell me.

--

You ask me if I still love you.  You say that you will stay, that we will work things out, but only if I love you. I love you. I love you so much. Still, you deserve better than to stay in the dysfunctional relationship that we have built for ourselves. Thinking that it is for the best, I whisper “no”.

--

We argue all the time now. We say the wrong things, and then pretend they are not hurting us. We scream to hide our pain.

--

We have our third fight. It is more violent than the second was, and the second was more violent than the first was.

--

We have our first fight.

--

For a while, we are really happy together.

--

One evening, you ask me if I would like to be your lover. I smile and reply “yes”.

--

Autumn days go by, and we spend most of them together. I tell you how I love fallen leaves, and you tell me how you love the way my hair gets when it is windy.

You tell the most amazing jokes and I laugh along. You smile and for a moment, everything is perfect.

--

The bird flies away and that’s when I first begin to fall in love with you.

--

I ask you never to become a bird. I tell you that it would be nicer to stay with me instead, and you swear that you will never leave me that way.
--

We see a bird, and you look pensive.  I ask you why, and you reply:

“I have always wished to be a bird, to be able to fly away from all the misery… even if it was just for a few seconds… even if was a bird with broken wings that only thought that he could fly. To believe for a few seconds that I could leave and go to some place better, it would be enough. I wish I was a bird. I wish I could just go without looking back, without being scared to hit the ground.” 

--

I ask if I can sit with you. You nod and tell me to sit down.

--

Walking in the park, I see you sitting under a tree. You look like you just might be as lonely as I am.

Walking through a postmodern version of the Garden of Eden, I found a box with my name on it. You told me that I should refrain from opening it. You told me that I could not handle the truth that it contained. Believing you, I opened it anyway.

There was nothing special inside of it. There was only a mirror; there was only a reflection of what I was.

It was not until I saw myself through it that I realized I was a puppet. How had I managed to miss it before? I could see clearly now; I could see the strings that you loved to pull so much, the porcelain instead of skin and the void where I once thought my heart to be.

 I felt fear before realizing that I could not feel fear. I could not even feel.

Though, the flowers around me seemed to be able to feel. As a matter of fact, they seemed to be able to do much more than that. Suddenly, they were growing terribly high in an attempt to suffocate me.

You told me to run away from them. You told me that they would squeeze the life right out of me.

And that’s when I realized that you, you did not exist.