One good thing about the misfortune of having to walk away from someone is the new people you’ll allow yourself to find and possibly know deeply. And they may not even be foreigners that happened to recently and randomly bump into your life, she may be a friend or perhaps actually an outsider to whom you’re just giving a chance because you need it and not cause you feel it. People seem to rush in when you’re available to listen to the requests they make, and well, letting them in only serves for one of two purposes.
You either perceive that love can really be found in someone else or you simply end up missing the love you lost. One heals you, at least temporarily, the other leaves you in a bland state of the same awkward and lovely introspection you have gotten used to, as you’ve been living in it for so long already.
In the end, those who mean nothing will not bother you at all from the day you decide to stop escorting her to those sit-downs on the seafront only to eat some ice cream, share kisses, smokes and experience a clearly inanimate chat. You clearly can’t go on with a person who makes you feel like this sort of spineless being, so that you pass the time with her calculating how much you’re missing somewhere else for being at that place in said time. Therefore, they’ll be the meaningless portion of your rebound period (if we can call it a rebound, though romantics have a hard time doing it, for if it’s not something genuine aiming at eternity, we barely consider it to be of any value for our mind and heart), yet the bad thing is that if it doesn’t struck you, it just won’t truly allow you to forsake your past, and that’s a shitty feeling. You lost your time, learnt so very little and now you still continue to struggle with everything that this person could never be when compared with the one that got away. Summing up, it was a purely disappointing experience.
On the other hand, there’s this lovely woman, you know her, you’ve been contacting her good spirit for a while, years maybe, a well-known friend you casually met, your colleague, but it could just as easily be some angelic stranger that obliviously shed some light upon you and so you start talking. Someone, whoever she is, somehow connecting with you, it’s clear, (is it the friendzone again? Who knows…) we all can tell when romance hits us like this. We loved once, we know how it feels and how to do it again, and there’s no other viable choice, I’ve said it yesterday and yeah, there assuredly is none. Just let go and expect for the sweetest ending. But we can’t help but to overthink with fear, growing restless assuming this will be just a replay of our last story. However, we are wiser, and that’s why we’ll give more of ourselves than we did last time, our best, as whole as we can. We can’t hold back our intentions, be kind regardless of what result it’ll bring you, be you and she’ll probably appreciate how easily you can be you by her side. That may be all it takes and surely all that matters in matters of love.
Love is made of these dualities, the intemporal waiting or the necessity to leave, the helpless need for an other warmth through words, gaze and touch, yet the same one capable of distressing us so harshly, mere losses of time against the only times really worth losing in life, and so on.
And to finish (as some have asked), I here leave an excerpt of my Portuguese “experimental romance”. The majority of you won’t understand it but I found it suitable for this post:
“Dou-me e em troca apenas espero que me acolha, sem pressas, tenho tempo. Porque afinal ela foi a única pessoa capaz de me ensinar que o tempo não para, e no entanto parece quase pausar quando se vive à espera que algo, um dia, nos seja por ele trazido. É engraçado como esse momento tão tardiamente tende a chegar, se é que de todo chega. Eu não sei, mas tanto espero que ela tudo me prometa sem uma única palavra promissora dela ter sequer ouvido, um tom desigual e disparatadamente quente que na sua voz significasse algo mais do que aquilo que evidentemente ela faz parecer. Mas não, nada mesmo ela me murmura, vive distantemente dentro de mim.”