Something I Wanted to Tell You

A desperate push to some sort of normality, it became in me, as I blossomed out of the teen cocoon, without any experience, without any delicacy. But I was alive, somehow, and with enough strength to at least believe blindly in hope. So you took my hand and told me you understood me, even though I didn’t understand, but even though you asked me, over and over again, I didn’t tell you what I wanted. I wanted something that had been lost in me, that was taken from me in the cruelest manner, but it is also intangible, something that I only realized with my aging. Every thought I had, even if it was of you, somehow revolved about aging, and dying, and getting older mischievously, but purposelessly.

I wasted a third of my life on things that had nothing to with me, I said tentatively. You seemed to comprehend but when I heard your answer, it was not at all what I meant, which bot disappointed me and excited me. Which was better, I thought in whispers, to be frank and let it all spill over, a gaping, hemorrhaging wound, unstoppable or be in the knowledge of you knowing, and not saying anything, silently seeing flail, flop, and falter, but, with more energy, a young cradled body that needed help?

Someone like me has experienced worse things at the wrong time, I said though I did not want to say anymore. You actually understood that, but your examples were of something that only people of your caliber can perceive and maneuver, I, on the wrong hand, had to stumble alone, with enough worry and hatred that there was little space for discovery, to feel the strength of my own passionate love. The one for me, the one I could share.

You probably should know, eventually, but I was too stubborn even when it didn’t matter anymore. I wanted to experience it all in the flesh, but it was in the wrong world, with the wrong soul, and the wrong tongue. So you had to watch me be the brittle version of myself, all the flaws, none of the strengths, and with enough self-hatred so that even the most moments of happiness, of discovery of the self, of the person I was meant to be twenty years ago, feel incredibly disturbing, so much time lost, so much love, unnecessarily so. I didn’t ask for this, but this is where I lived.

When you experienced what I am experiencing now, it was easy and natural, but what I am doing now, even though all I want is dignity and respect and I want to enjoy without worrying, it is dangerous, I said and, at last, with the heavy sigh that followed, you understood. You stared and you hugged me tenderly, in a way we had never done it before, and I cried, and laughed, and then looked at you with one less burden off my head. My chest heaved strangely, but I managed to control it. I did not smile, though, but I had such a nice, cute little dream I wanted to share with you, and you heard it so intently…