The task is imposed on me to let go of you so that I can hold on to myself again.

The
repeated return of your absence hits my empty bed full of memories that some I no longer
remember if they ever happened. I invent you with little colored paints and I give you the
shape that I need you to have so as not to be left with this loneliness of lead, which I have
been carrying for a long time in this bent and injured neck.
I know it's not you. I don't even care what your name is. I only lock myself in your
impossibility of loving me a little more and better. That's my battle. My trophy is to
recover just something of everything that others took. And suddenly and again, you are
also all the others.
Do not leave me.
Sometimes it is difficult for me to compile a single reason that justifies this obsessive and
painful attachment to a non-existent refuge that I wish would save me, while I see and feel
how I am sinking. You do not exist. I already know it. It's my head full of fears that cries at
night begging no one not to leave me again. I don't care about your name. It is the wound
of heartbreak that trembles again. Sometimes it takes a lifetime to accept that someone
doesn't love you. I still have a long way to go. We already know that you are not my love.
That's why you don't feel guilt that doesn't belong to you and you leave me alone all the
time, in this desolate room without giving even half an explanation. No, you're not. You
are simply and complexly one more link in the chain of failures that I have been dragging
for as long as I can remember.
You are nothing in me.
You are just a new attempt to heal everything I bring back. As if your love could heal the
cracks of the past.
That's why I know you're nobody. And yet today, you are all I have.
Lorena Pronsky

I loved myself in you. I saw myself with that uncontrolled girlish laugh, on top of the table.
With that slightly broken heart, which seemed to be healing. I knew my temperance, my
waiting and my harmony. My unwavering fidelity and my desire wishing from the inside. I
found my simplicity and my selfless love. My knowing look and my most sincere advice. I
confirmed my lack of hugs and discovered myself enjoying your eyes, fixed on my pupils.
I traveled with my head to all places in the world with your hand. I saw myself on the
beach, in the mountains, in the cold and in the heat. Although with a coffee between the
sheets and some background music, I had all the trips already traveled.
I heard the voice I had never heard before. I spoke to you with a sweetness that was
imposed on me without calculating it. The anxiety of seeing you made me want to ask you
not to leave. Stay. May you save me.
I looked inside myself and discovered that I was loving better. Better than when he
obviously didn't love. I missed you and then I decided to encourage myself to take that
leap into the void, to nothing and everything.
With you I wanted to send myself to change everything that was already established. I
didn't have a single doubt, I didn't have a single question. Just my own answers. I want to
stay here. By your side . Next to me. I slept in you.
One day, with the candy in your hand and with the irony of receiving an empty gift, you
told me that you couldn't continue walking in my direction.
I remember that you started with that "it's not you, it's me." With life and circumstances.
I listened to you and nothing more. I knew what I was going to lose when you leave and I
knew that these things are not asked for or negotiated. I just wanted to listen to you and
let you go.
My certainty that love doesn't change, kept me from crying and any kind of regret. That's
what I had the bathroom for. One more slam of the door wasn't going to move the
bookshelf. But it moved me anyway. Because I loved myself in you. I loved my own
caresses, my spontaneous freedom, my untold stories and my dazed smile.
Now you're not here and I'm left with all that of mine, not knowing what to do. I know the
nonsense of waiting for something that is going to arrive, of then loving you and the whole
sea by car. But the thing is, I miss you, as much as I miss me.
I always survived all the stories of unrequited love with dignity. I was never one to stay
behind a door where I had not been invited. After emptying myself of everything I had to
say, I left as I had to. Losing never touched my pride or dignity. But here things are
different. It's hard for me, damn it. It's hard for me to lose here. Because letting go of you
forces me to get rid of all that other part that is the one I want to stay with and can't.
I loved myself in you. And you are not there. What will become of my infatuation with me
when I let you go. You left me the most important rod of my life. Now I know who I am by
loving well. Loving better. But I have to let you go and let myself go with you in my best
version. It's hard for me. Is not easy. I calculate that I can handle your absence as I could
handle the others. What is not very clear to me is what will happen to me when I go with
you.
Another death is coming. Another piece, full of threads to cut. I guess it's time for my own
farewell and sometimes it gets tiring to survive. Tired.
Later, with the clearest and cleanest look, I know that I can understand everything and
put it in this trunk of dreams that were only dreamed and never lived.
I know I will heal once again. I know. But, in the meantime, I'm getting tired of surviving.

Lorena Pronsky