A kind of YOU

I could have been made of ice, but I chose to warm the world with my smiles.

I could have retaliated for the misogynistic words, but I chose to use that warm tone again.

I could have made you suffer, but I chose to be happy.

I could have always put a comma, but I chose to put a full stop.

I feel the pain starting to seep out of my veins and the numbness of the autumn days want to take my breath away as soon as possible. I have to admit, I'm a macabre person! I allowed myself to be happy. I allowed myself to be that person who wears white to a funeral when everyone else wears black; to laugh when others cry No wonder I put up with this world suffering since I was a small child, when instead of drawing a green flower stem and red spots - like the rest - I did the opposite.4

I was happy, I felt good and somehow different. That was until the teacher came to me and said: not like that. Maybe the others couldn't see, but my heart was bleeding when I did the same drawing with my classmates. I knew that what I had done had been good.

Somehow, the family, the people around me had started to pull me into their sphere. I no longer cared that I had to be different, everything was wonderful without complications. That is until a he appeared, and without realizing it I became what he wanted me to be. Kind of like him, only much more submissive and obedient. There was no question of love. I loved him, maybe not enough to take my life for him, but enough to prove it to him. Indeed, I loved him with the passion of a demon. The universe had begun with him and ended with me.6

The number six has never brought me luck. At six months I got poisoned, at six I fell off my bike, at 16 I fell in love... at six I was born. Six years and a few days lasted a relationship in gray molehills, they had never been black or white, but always gray. The breakup happened after he cheated on me, when things had already become complicated, and he was cold, sober, accusing me because he was suffering. At first I felt my heart sting and my body ache in those places where his lips had rested.4

After a few days, I woke up after a little drunkenness and could not remember what was happening to me. I thought he was still with me. Guess what? He wasn't there and I wasn't suffering. Then I realized that I had created all the pain, I was causing my suffering and I was also supporting it. So the tears stopped flowing, I didn't stand against the wall because I wouldn't have loved him enough. I didn't suffer because he didn't love me anymore, because he had made me a kind of him and that's why he started to stop loving me. I didn't suffer because I lost a man who didn't love me, but he was going to suffer because he lost a person who had changed to be with him.

My friends started asking me if I was okay, I answered them with a smile that yes. Many looked at me skeptically, thinking that I would suffer inside, they even recommended me to psychologists. I had healed myself, why should I be helped by someone else who comes with a simple assumption?

Maybe I could have looked in the mirror more often and told myself that I am a wonderful person. No, please reader I would not like to hear you call me a hypocrite. Would you like to know something, the hypocrisy you think anyway makes me a thousand times happier than you are right now. Exactly, a thousand times happier, because I am no longer a kind of him, nor a kind of YOU, but a kind of me. A kind of me that stays up late and dreams, wakes up early and lives the dream. I do not complain of loneliness or suffering, but smile in front of my little one. I don't care if you call me weird, but you sure will be affected if I call you weird. This will be one more reason to cry tomorrow that you are not beautiful, thin, smart, talented, sporty, optimistic, popular? Mediocre complaints for a child who didn't understand that the wolf who walks up the mountain is always less hungry than the one who climbs it.2

What if there is loneliness? What if there are people and people, or do you think those people are where they are because they sat around crying like children instead of fighting? I will never choose to be like them, because I want to be me. I don't want someone else's boring life, I want a different life and a lot of happiness.

I could have been kind of like you, but I chose to be me.

No suffering, no jealousy, no envy, no love, no drama. Just YOU and that's it. Doesn't that sound like a beautiful life?2

Ending one relationship means opening up to another; the end of a friendship means maturing, and the end of life shows the lack of the verb "to live" in happiness.2

You choose whether you will remain you or be like them. Like demons and your executioners, but at what cost? For revenge? There is no point in living for revenge, because the only victim will be you when you realize that you have lost the train of life. Do not forget that the names of those who took revenge are always forgotten. Revenge is a momentary sensation, and happiness lasts until the end.

Look at me, now I'm 26 years old and the revolver at my temple, held by those fingers that once gently caressed my cheek. Held by that HE, who wants revenge because I chose to be ME. It's a beautiful way to die, especially when I have the peace of mind that it was ME, not HIM. Because we would have ended up here, if I had been HIM, I would now be holding the revolver, ready to take his life. Number six really didn't keep me alive.

In just a few minutes I will no longer be ME, I will go somewhere much better. And HE will remain and be judged by all, because he thought and acted like others. I don't regret that I loved, I don't regret that I was happy, I don't regret that it was ME and not someone else.6

Maybe in another story we would have been destined to simply be US. Now I hear how the bullet was loaded.

Don't forget, be YOU. In a cruel world like this, you'll end up when you didn't plan, and in your last breaths you'll realize you've been SOMEONE ELSE all your life.5

Farewell!