Let me, let me go
let me swim asleep
unaware of the dancing mermaids
and feel cold
let me stretch my tongue to the Autumn sun
who watches me through the window like a bitter cat
let me float along the deck towards the sea
feel the moistened wood under my feet
breathe with every step
let the wind evaporate my skin in motherly embraces
let me return to my cradle
oh this warm piano
find this place which soon will be my limbo
Immerse into solitude
And emerge with a smile
Never have I written so many poems as since the day I met her - better saying, since the day we first talked to each other: she was playing a tune from my favourite film, which is (or was) also hers. And falling in love, writing poetry, all the things that were unknown to me were painfully associated by my mind with Once : our love for music is the only thing we share, though we aren't nearly as close as the main characters in the picture.
Never have I cried so much as in the day I saw her talking to a guy I met on my first college day. I've never felt jealous before, and I felt very guilty for that. I wasn't jealous of them though - all I knew was that I hated myself for failing so hard. We've never had a long, happy conversation like they were having now and, even though I was weirdly happy for seeing her smile so much when she was with him, I felt like I've betrayed myself setting an unreachable goal. Why weren't I like that guy? Why did I have to be always nervous and aloof around her? Why weren't I pretty and smart, just like him? Why weren't I born in a male body? It would make no difference whatsoever.
That day I couldn't watch the whole class; I went to the bathroom to cry. I didn't know why I was crying though, and I still feel ridiculous to know that I should have experienced it all a long time ago, before I was an adult, before I judged myself so hard.
She obviously didn't notice that I was away. I don't actually care - it would have been terrible if she found me. But that day I was learning with her again - I learnt that I was human, I allowed myself to feel hurt, I allowed myself to cry. Again, it was the first time, and I felt thankful.
Never have I felt so relieved as the day after. I still love her and my heart struggles for not to make it so apparent - I pretend not to care so much about her. But it seems that the best I can do is just to let go. It's not her fault if I actually love her. It's not her fault if I don't know what to do about it. All I want is for her to be happy, with herself and everyone else, and I bet she is. I don't want her to be my girlfriend, I want her to be my girlfriend if she ever wants to. I used to worry that she would think I'm some kind of monster and, since I'm asexual, I wanted her to know I wasn't lusting. But now I don't care about it anymore.
Someone once told me that love is sacrifice. I am blessed to fully understand it now, but I never wanted to be some kind of martyr. However, I never thought I would be so happy to give up on myself.
She was with him again last week, and almost missed a class. I heard her laughter on the corridor; she sounds like a fairy when she's happy.
I smiled.
