I'm like a piece of ice exposed to the sun

Today I waited for hours under the window to see you. There was a dim light that illuminated your room while some of the windows were plunged into darkness. It was comforting to know that he was there. The moon, standing steady in the middle of the blackened sky, managed to catch my attention, reminding me of you. The moon shining like the first time I saw you, the moon that illuminated the night as if you didn't notice me, didn't look at me as if she had given up hope on me. This is the first time I was looking at this huge light source hanging in the sky, as if looking at your face. Maybe the streetlights that pierced the darkness prevented me from seeing him. Or did I need to see you in order to notice him? I do not know.

Inside the room, there was a vague movement on the wall. I was moved by the effect of seeing you. The activity reflected on the wall was darkened by the disappearance of the light, and I waited a little longer in the hope of seeing you from the dark room. I watched intently from the wood-framed window without taking my eyes off it. It was as if when I looked the other way, I was afraid that you would come out and I wouldn't be able to see you. The breathlessness caused by the excitement made my lips dry, I waited for minutes. I was sure it wouldn't come out, I couldn't fool myself anymore. My hope was gone, my hope was left to sadness, what a strange feeling, the sickness called sadness, when it sticks to your collar, it just doesn't let go. My hope had melted away like a piece of ice exposed to the sun. While the hope of seeing you faded away, the sadness of not seeing you filled my whole body.

I was walking under the yellow street lamps with my shadow that never left me alone. Presumably, the eyes that see me in front of me will wobble and see that I am walking with a difficult force. They won't want to walk away from me. They will be nervous and afraid of me. However, I am walking in a dream. They'll think I'm drunk because of the alcohol circulating in my blood. I'm straight in their face, "I'm intoxicated with love." I want to shout, because people have prejudiced thinking. They are afraid of the scenarios they create without knowing the truth of something. Because man is a cowardly creature. Just like I was cowardly and didn't show up in front of you.

While I was just looking at the piece of paper I was holding in my hand, the tears flowing from my eyes shook me as if waking me from a deep sleep. The tears flowing from my eyes fell like a signature under the last lines. I was the cause of her pain, she was suffering because of me. I could not control my reproaches. I didn't have the strength to control neither the tears flowing from my eyes nor the storms that broke inside me. I just let myself go with the powerlessness that sadness created in me. The tears that flowed from my eyes had dried on my cheeks and were no longer flowing.

Was it me I saw in the mirror? It was the first time I saw myself so exhausted through the mirror in front of me, reflecting my tired eyes. He looked at me as if the colorful flowers had lost their vitality. The embers of fire inside me engulfed my body. I could feel the coolness of the cold water hitting my face all over my body. I went to my mom with a fake smile on my face. I helped him prepare the table. After a few bites without appetite, we cleared the table and I went back to my room.

I had turned on my desk lamp to illuminate the darkness in my room, it had a dull glow as if it wanted to be plunged into darkness. The air in my room was so suffocating that it was hard for me to breathe. I opened my window wide to let the gentle breeze outside change the gloomy mood of my room. I remembered those times when he waited under my window for hours, so I waited in hopes of seeing him, accompanied by the light wind blowing from my window. I looked at the moon, which looked like ashen from afar in all its splendor, and on which pits were formed by the blows it received from near. He wrote that he saw me when he looked at the moon. I didn't see it. Because he hid himself from me, deprived himself. If he looked at the moon now, he would be able to see me, but I would see the blows he received on the injured moon.

That night I waited for hours, hours as if trying to understand him. I waited for a moment to feel how the hope of seeing was melting, as he put it, “like a piece of ice exposed to the sun.” I did not turn off the dull bright light that illuminated my room. Maybe I didn't want to leave him in the dark in the hope that he would come. In my bed, which I entered not to sleep, but to collect my thoughts, after a while I passed out and succumbed to the drowsiness of sleep.