The question was easy.

Why was I one that never followed people's advices and do the very opposite of what was kindly suggested me? This question will be recurring, and even though it ruined most of my hopeful mood, it has also prevented me to ruin yours.

I swear I used not to be like this, stubborn and spiteful towards acts of kindness, but since you came around, my life was completely turned upside down. And I must have known better, when you appeared and shyly made your way into my heart, almost immediately granting you access whereas many others had tried for so long but always, continuously failed at shaking me from my trance.

Reserved, discreet, one who felt at home only surrounded by people who didn't need to be constantly checked upon; friends were those that felt good to be around even with very few words, not high mantainance at all, because it was someone's little thought that was worth the game, I think I heard people say.

Well, I was one who you could definitely call a little dork, a nerd, always shut in his little bubble of thoughts, a very resistent bubble to describe it in your way. You used to say that I was a mystery that intrigued you since the very first day you landed eyes on me, by mistake because we happened to be sitting together for lunch back when we hung around the campus' cafeteria.

Whenever you told me yours was a mistake, I always pouted like a baby, not understanding why you were so stubbornly convinced that yours couldn't be the sparkling flicker of our ignited destiny together. I honestly hated the word mistake, and as much honestly I couldn't help but never totally forgive myself for not lifting earlier my eyes off the lunch tray that day - a miserable tuna sandwich accompanied by green salad and a coke - to meet yours. Your ever so beautifully shining dark eyes that from the very beginning studied me as if I were the last example of an endangered species, or, more fitting to my existence as a loner, an alien from another planet.

Another star. Our star, perhaps? The one which sent you in my life and let you either neatly organize the mess that reigned unconquered in my soul, or further mess me up once again, that time with a shaking strength I highly doubted a midget like you could hide deep inside.

Still, you did. And your incredible vitality shook me up from the core. How I wished to have met earlier your curious gaze that day? Instead, for a lack of place in the overcrowded hall, you left without even saying hi to me, to the one who sat before you but couldn't see you, not yet. If I had known, if only I had known you were there, I'd have left my maths book, unplugged the earbuds and willingly burst my lonely bubble to let you near me.

We didn't see each other anymore until my friends told me you were desperately looking for tutoring lessons. I didn't know you, or your name, what you looked like, nothing was known to me, besides the fact that you were just one of the many asking me, the best in his course, for tutoring lessons.

You never truly showed up to ask me directly, but I agreed nonetheless. I was a poor college student who that way saved up some more, I never refused a call for help when it could have benefitted me too. But now, once again I regret considering you just one of the many others that appeared before the door of my room at the dorms. You clearly weren't, and this was yet one another sign of our strong bounded destiny, how could I not understand it before?

And so you appeared before my eyes.

Nothing exceptional at first look, perhaps you could be what I hated the most in a man, but of this I'm not sure, because even though I wasn't attracted to you from the very beginning, since the day everything in my life changed thanks to you, I'm now not able to see a man without either comparing him to you or harshly judge him because he's not you. Nobody could be like you. Nobody could be you. 

You were this midget student from the music department, an outstanding performer, desperately looking for a way to recuperate some compulsory grades before falling behind the other students. You were so kindhearted, so hardworking and unfortunately this tad stubborn, because you refused your professors' help, who even suggested you not to retake the exam, they would have gladly let you pass the same, even with the lowest score ever regisered, because you deserved it. But for you, passing exams with excellency was everything. If I think about it again, right now, I would probably never be grateful enough to that stubborness that pushed you to look for me and consider me as your only safety anchor in that case. 

As soon as we set the first lessons, I understood you weren't made for that stuff, and I often lost my patience because it was unbelievable that someone that liked studying as much as you did couldn't comprehend the basics. It simply made me go nuts, but in the end, slowly, day after day spent together locked in my little room, we figured out a way to make you memorize everything needed to pass the exam.

And you did pass it, with good grades too, though for you that didn't look like anything comparable to a reason for being happy.

Every time you were always asking for more and challenged yourself, I seriously couldn't understand you at all. However, through numbers and formulas, you eventually slipped yours on a little, crumpled piece of paper, and I probably should be very embarrassed with myself to admit it, but I still cherish that square of paper like my most precious treasure.

You snatched from me the promise of a date if you ever managed to pass the exam, and since you did, since I was the one who helped you to achieve this undreamed-of result, I accepted.

As a friend I took you out, completely oblivious of the sweet eyes that, among the sitting crowd of a highly frequented place, were directed at me only. That was when I inconsciously let you slip inside my lonely bubble with me, or rather you up, because from that moment on I could count a friend more in my already too narrow circle of acquaintances.

Yes, we were friends. Because you already knew everything was there to know about me in very short time, and I wasn't surely one that had many demands. I only needed to inquire further about you, and soon I discovered that despite your maturity, you were just like a kid, living with the eternal little child sealed up in your soul that cherished your creativity and gave you suggestions when it came to trust the world and its ferocious mechanisms of brutal survival. That was why I persnally decided to live in my bubble, but you were different. Highly against that method, you were one of those dreamy people that I simply called hopeless deluded, but that you soon made me appreciate, because despite the wrong present on our Earth, you always - a bit too childishly and naively - came up with a good justification for everything, as if the bad naturally came out like the rightful consequence for failing at pursuing the good, a sort of self-protection system you called it.

I had almost no mean to think about the bad side of the world though, it was too soon, because you were my good, the balancing side, the missing half and I had no worries to face if you were by my side.

You hated coffee, too strong, too bitter, but delightedly depended on tea, and who recalls all those overly scented mixtures you made me taste and that I faked to like, just because you had this sort of overexcitement whenever you were busy at preparing me something to eat or drink. I gave in, always. My heart couldn't take in to see your face crease with disappointment, not when it was turned to me anyway, but whenever you couldn't see me, I swiftly grabbed my coffee tumblr that I had precisely hidden from you, because I couldn't help but ingest some strong, black double shots and feel caffeine running in my veins, like adrenaline shaking me from head to toe.

Even at the age of twenty-four you still kept the habit of writing in your journal. I knew of its existence because you used to tell me that you never really adapted to your life ever since moving away from home to attend schools. For all your younger years, you were almost always separated from your family: your dad and your mom, that loved you dearly because you were their only son, their only jewel to polish in this corrupted society. And so, writing became a method to vent all your strongest emotions: sadness, anger, happiness...

That was when I realized that your innocent and contagious being was making me slowly fall for you. Fall hard for you, I might say.

You silently intruded into my life, not asking for much - assuming we can give so little importance to your academic scores anyway, since you completely entrusted your life in my hands without even knowing if I was a big, bad wolf or not. I loved the way you were so carefree and met the passing days as they came, slowly taking one at a time and trying to solve all of your problems and issues of the day, not that you had many though. Because you were loved by everyone, and there was no mean you could make it to the blacklist of someone who held a grudge towards you. No, that was nearly impossible.

I still remember my foolish self, when I toured all the shops of the town, a very big town, with the sole aim of finding a brand new diary that met your standards: colorful cover, not too rigid or with many designs, compact size, the more pages the better and these had to be relatively thick - because you feared to tear the pages while deleting incorrect words and doodles with the rubber eraser - and preferably made of recycled paper.

It wasn't an unthinkable request: there were many notebooks that responded to the description, but never fully met it, for nearly all of them always missed out on one or two required elements.

However, when I found the right one, I moved with great advance and bought it, for fear that you could already finish the one filled of your thoughts of that time and buy yourself a new one to use.

Selfishly, I wanted to be the one giving you as a present the only tool you never parted from for the entire length of the day, well except for your ipod of course. And so, I managed to find the right one.

It had a cute giraffe on it; how lucky for me, since giraffes have always been your favorite animal. I knew what I wanted to do with it before wrapping it in a colored paper and give it to you as my personal gift, but it took me too long I eventually feared that I was so late at organizing my gift. What a news! I was always a perfectionist when it came to screw up my own plans! But no, nothing too extreme happened, except for your cute look of delighted astonishment when I handed you the gift and you read the very first page, filled with my shameful wavy handwriting.

You said you never had the chance to fill a diary with thoughts of love. I don't believe you, because from now on this diary will be filled of memories from you and me. I think I'm in love with you.

The reaction came naturally.

But I swear, even though I had tried to imagine it in my mind for many times prior that encounter, nothing could beat the actual feeling of having you in my arms, pressed against my chest as you excitedly tiptoed to meet the taller me and hide your flushed, happy face in the crook of my neck.

We were officially one. From that day our lives together started, in my bubble, in yours...it didn't matter where, as long as we were side by side, letting no one spoil my funny grumpiness or your angelic innocence. 

We grew up, striving for our kind of perfection, the one which simply meant happiness for the both of us, and we bravely fought any kind of obstacle: university graduation, the endless and hopeless research of a steady job that could help us pay for our lease, since we almost immediately decided to live together in a small but pretty flat not too far from where our former dorms were, your mom's illness and your subsequent father's depression, which led him to suicide when your mother prematurely left the two you.

Although you seemed to be struggling to keep your faith in a world in which you didn't believe anymore at that point in time, you never gave me any reason to worry, for you were stronger than what people liked to think, maybe even stronger than me, but I somehow liked to imagine that you needed me as your only support to survive.

I liked to have you small and undefended, like a kitten to tend, to look out for me whenever you needed a booster of energy, or a simple, reassuring kiss before going to bed, a hug while you were too tired after touring several neighborhoods in order to give private lessons to the nearby living kids, because you failed at enter a prestigious school to further your studies and nevertheless needed money to contribute to my already low income. 

I remember your painful tears when you told me about being rejected, the way you violently threw on the floor your precious portfolio full of scores and lyrics, which was the same one that failed the screening process and couldn't make it to the three places covered by the scholarship.

I remember my anger, and the neverending curses that flew to that judging panel whose composition I didn't even know. They were common people like you and me only doing their job, but I hated them for not noticing the hidden rough diamond that was hidden in your heart and that needed to be put under deserved spotlights, before all your bottled up creativity could explode and become the weapon that fired back against you, a deadly shot that deprived you of your passion. One that changed your view of the colors, and only let you distinguish between boring black and white among the prism of light. 

You weren't that lifeless shell you turned out into after failing. I didn't know what to do to cheer you up, I felt useless, but I was also aware that my comforting words were pointless, when I ignored exactly which kind of hurricane swept past your heart and messed with your fragile balance. My biggest, stupid mistake was that I couldn't tell you to try again and convice you of your true value. Rejection hurt so much and you didn't look ready, though maybe you were, and I had to support you no matter how, in bad or good times, but instead only and unconsciously left you in the darkness of delusion.

Then I realized I wasn't half the good lover you wanted me to be at the very beginning.

Back during university, you eagerly fancied of our quiet life together, without even knowing that what you were asking for actually became the reason of our final goodbye. We had plenty of moments for little escapades and picnics on the beach, walks at the park, but time for touches, kisses, and love was slowly yet repetitively disappearing. Our bond was falling apart, without me even noticing it. And I ask myself: was there something I might have done earlier, in order to save it all from destruction and loneliness? You probably would never tell me, not when your happiness isn't resting anymore in my hands, perhaps it never did.

To cover up for the poor life that we ended up being tangled with, I took in more than one job: the latest being a helper janitor in schools and a warehouse worker at night.

Neither of them were what I dreamed to do since graduating from university. I was an outstanding student graduated from the engineering department but strived to make it into working positions at the height of my achieved score, or interests or plans.

That made me understand how little importance advanced level of education could have in our polluted society, where money ruled instead of one's true value.

Even though I was disappointed because I was inesorably failing you, your dear words about us were the only chant, the only spell that could give me a little faith in what I did and whom I did this all for. University was our last protective cradle, students are eager to come to life a face everyday problems to show their maturity. We were too, but didn't take it into account that the life we wished for was only one of the many curses coated in sweet, tasty sugar so that we were fooled by what we dreamed of. You used to say that we had to keep on waiting, for our yet to ripe potential was to explode sooner or later and thus reach its highest peek, until it could help us being noticed and resurface from the bottom of this harsh life. 

But the truth was that, though repeating that to myself, only made me hate to see you come back home every evening, tired and silent after quarelling with the nth kid that didn't want to follow your explanations.

I even ended up questioning myself about the true reason their parents wanted to force their spoilt kids into learning something they clearly didn't care for. Perhaps they were sincerely amused to have a very available teacher like you ready at their service, because you rarely lost your patience and I couldn't understand why you didn't rebel and still dealt with a bunch of ignorant and snobbish trash like them all. You didn't deserve that treatment.

Your reply struck me at the core, because you admitted to be doing it for money then, not for the appeasing satisfaction of playing the piano.

The piano was all your life, and you were so lucky that your parents at least left you that from your home in the countryside before passing away, or I fear I could have never been able to afford buying you one. And for the damn lack of household income, you kept it from me but eventually ended up selling the piano, your only memory of your parents that so much invested in your future, to pay for a stack of expired bills that I inavertedly forgot to clear.

I hated myself for stealing you that last piece of hope.

I would never forget the day those two men from the antique's came to take it away or how your eyes followed them silently, not betraying any flicker of hurt sadness when renouncing to your only reason to live, not even when I tried to desperately stop them and trying to bargain any other item in my possession just to save the piano. But you pulled me away right before I could beg them not to leave and you closed the door behind those strangers, bidding your farewell to your last remaining memory of a serene childhood.

I hated myself for leading you to such a painful existence, to which you looked normally, perhaps scaringly used by then. 

We were at the resignation stage, after passing denial. We were just waiting for acceptation, which didn't fail to arrive.

Everything was my fault, something I needed to fix with my own strength because I refused to let our relationship slip from my hands: before firm reins hold in control, now an unbalanced castle made of cards waiting for a challenging blow of the wind.

Working as a janitor in schools, or stacking heavy boxes for a chain of supermarket warehouses, I used to spend my days more and more distant from you, almost entirely covering the twenty-four hours of the day with my work commitments.

You were a luxury I couldn't let myself to enjoy anymore, and even though my little works here and there were enough respectable, I didn't want to spoil you, my perfect angel, with my worries linked to the account balance, or touch you with my ruined, red hands which were beginning to be covered in merciless calluses. I didn't want to kiss you and transmit in my kiss the uncertainty of a tomorrow that I prayed never to come, I didn't want to hold you in my arms and let you feel my shivers because my body wasn't trained to lift heavy weights yet.

I risked to find myself trapped every night under boxes that were triple my size, but I gritted teeth and went on, because you were the only reason for me to endure this foul pain.

If I didn't have you constantly fueling my mind with rare energy, I am scared to admit I'd have already let myself go to a life that didn't belong to me anymore. I never told you any of my worries, I was ashamed, embarrassed, and I thought that you had way less of them than me to fight against, but maybe if I were the collaborative lover you had always asked me to be, we'd have sorted our issues and eventually worked them out. Together.

But I was always away for work, and you needed me more than anything else. Why didn't I understand it? Why did I take you for granted?

Instead, you were spending great part of your days away from home, I didn't know where you usually headed to, and I never asked. How could I, when all we could do was keeping a communication via post-it, by the way the only colorful note in our kitchen. 

I wish I didn't take you for granted like I did. I thought you could always come back home from wherever you used to go and hide your worries, but that wasn't it.

Because I had to notice you drifting apart from me more than what had obviously happened while dealing with our unfortunate lives. I had to notice that, whenever I came back to rest at dawn for a couple of spare hours before going to work at school, you weren't there. The house didn't feel lived anymore, the lacking fridge was empty by then, the kitchen always too spotlessly clean because you didn't use it, our bed was cold, sheets too neatly folded, and it bore all the distance and the silence that had fallen between us.

When was the last time we let ourself dream with a love that belonged to our younger days and feel our bodies gently pressed one on the other? When could I listen to your serene breath hitting the crook of my neck while you slept tangled in my embrace? I don't know.

I also faked to know what was going on when our house spoke less of you and held almost no presence of you, except for some clothes, perhaps distractedly left behind. I faked my shock when one night I found your latest diary on the kitchen table, last memory of the physical you. It treasured all your worries for a life that looked more like hell, it told the tale of how our love was slowly dissipating in thin air, like ashes spread in the wind, it made me realize all my mistakes listed from A to Z in a succession of words that stabbed my heart with a ferocity I had never felt before. No surprise, I knew it beforehand, though I never voiced that fear in my heart.

You left. Forever.

What you blamed on me was what I had always unconsciously known: I loved you too much and was scared to spoil you, so I left you in the dark, thinking that our economical problems couldn't affect you much. You wanted to devote your life to music, but when you failed at it, you expected me to push you towards your bundle of hope concealed in that treasure lock you didn't dare to open anymore, a mirror in which you were scared to face your old smiling and childish self. It wasn't time for playing games, not when our existence was getting crumpled with each passing day, and I did less than nothing, hoping that I could save your innocence from the bad twists of fate.

I literally left you alone when I committed my whole days to work and thus, not able to meet me and tell me in the face due to my contrasting shifts, you preferred to leave a short thought on the ever last page of that diary, which helped me getting to know the latest version of you, one that I feared but still loved in my stupid blindness.

You didn't spare any word to let me know your sufferings, your pain, you made me feel a bastard, less than a worm for having pulled you, my angel, down from the comfort of Heavens on the raw, dirty earth, where I surely didn't keep from adding on the adversities we were facing and painfully tore each soft feather that composed your set of wings.

You wanted to fly, but being stuck with me wasn't the dream you imagined, and so you went away on your feet, unable to endure it all one more day.

I swear, I was waiting for this day to come, not that I anticipated it anyhow. I felt it near and near as days went by, it was only a matter of time, and you probably left me way earlier, even though you kept living with me, you were probably already emptied of your feelings for me, replaced with hatred, anger or pity? I think I preferred not to know back then, but now three years have already gone by and all my resolutions crumbled down.

You would probably wonder why I asked myself the reason I never considered myself one to follow people's kind suggestions.

Well, you might have already figured it out with each word flowing before your eyes on this mere piece of paper.

When you left, I, who had literally nothing, embarked on a ship for all this time.

I didn't know what I would have found in the open sea, I didn't know how to throw nets in the water and pull them up filled with fish, I think what I truly knew to do was nothing by then. I was too obscured by what I had always pointed out as my outstanding brain, which very little helped me to get rid of our struggles, but the crew was composed of men from different backgrounds, just like me, and they never asked too many questions, unless they were directed at knowing whose turn was to cook, since we all shifted on a weekly basis.

At first, I was put to do the lightest and smallest works, like washing the dishes, moving boxes and cleaning the deck. As soon as I revealed myself good enough at dealing with the basics, some old men taught me to sew the holes in the nets, which was considered the most important task ever to be done aboard, perhaps even more important that fishing itself, because with less or no holes in the nets, the amount of fish pulled up from the sea was surely to be higher, much to the captain's pleasure.

So I stayed there, witnessing several kind of different desperate men like me boarding up and beginning to throw themselves in hard work just for the sake of forgetting their displeasures.

I met people of all colors and races, with different backgrounds and problems: there was the one who had been thrown out of home because his wife caught him cheating on her. He lost everything, his children's affection included. There was this other, who failed at proposing, too shy and ashamed of his roots to dare asking his loved one for a concrete chance. He saw her the day before her marriage to another and he needed a reason not to end up drowning in rivers of alcohol, so he ran away. Other men had lost dear people because of accidents, illness; there was this rich man gone into bankruptcy and had to fire all his former workers, though his heart broke at the idea of disappointing and putting into troubles many other trustworthy people. I talked with men who witnessed any sort of pain, sadness, sorrow and even violence. And somehow I felt that my position was lighter then theirs.

At least, you left me when things hadn't reach any gravity yet. Even if I were to go instantly crazy without by my side, at least you found the courage to run after your happiness, once again for the last time, or even the ghost of a similar happiness was enough for you, if it could grant you a last chance for redemption.

Funny how my fate brought me to this ship. I still deceptively believed in the power of our love, and our memories pushed me to try my future on a ship called "Eternal Sunshine". 

It might be silly but I feel good, almost protected under the effect of a charm, at the thought of being aboard a ship that bore the same name of our song, the one you composed and I wrote the lyrics for. While being here, I never worried to slip under the weight of that same bitterness that transformed me when we were living together, and that I probably had you contaminated with, resulting in your departure. 

I was happy and felt fulfilled, because I was surrounded by the mighty presence of the sea, symbol of stillness, emptiness, the vast nothing that shared its laziness and that, when reached a silence too loud, boasted to interrupt the irritating squeaks of seagulls in the sky, and made sure to remind its existence with storms and high waves, which splashed on the deck of our ship, washing any kind of sorrow away as if in a purifying cycle.

I'd never deny that at first I was really scared. I mean, what if I distractedly fell in to the water and see my life literally pulled away from me while drowning again in my fears? But then I remembered that what I had to deal with, while trying to live for the both of us was actually way more frightening than dying in the sea totally alone.

Back then I had you as support, and when your closeness began to lack and I had you there without ever feeling you near me, you became the unsteady constant that had always marked my existence, while accompanying me through heaven and hell. That itself scared me and deprived me of the joy with which we willingly promised each other to spend our lives together. I had my lover with me, but I couldn't touch you, I couldn't claim you as mine, because you were holding all your anger and disappointment towards me locked up in your heart. I didn't deserve you, and you showed just how much foolish I was while drifting apart.

And so, despite uncertainties and bad times, the annoyance of dealing with deadlines to pay bills that we couldn't afford...I felt that I couldn't hit the bottom in any other worst way than failing at you. That was worse than waking up every night to begin the same routine of checking tools and nets, that was worse than finding myself in proximity of death, because when I closed my eyes I wasn't sure whether I'd have found myself still in my bed, or silently buried in my grave, in the depths of the ocean, but in truth I couldn't care less. 

I was once again travelling in my resignation. Moreover, I was never completely alone.

Though I faced days when I locked up in my silence and didn't want to deal with anybody except the memory of our old, beautiful selves, unlike many of my unfortunate companions, I had our star protecting me from above at night. It was a little enlighted, sparkling dot that instilled in me a sense of safety I could never convey with simple words. It was just like one of your hugs during early mornings, after drinking coffee, a warm touch that envelopped me with a renewed energy to face the dreadful day. And the warrior you had always praised in me, once again took place of the insignificant resigned being, in a waltz of shifts.

How I longed to show you for a last time, a last chance, the fighting spirit, that silence and coexistence with my worst parts had made me look for and establish after sorting out my priorities.

You were my priority, and I had to know better than letting you escape without fighting for a reason to fix the scarred purity of our love.

And when my journey finished, leaving me with new confidence and serenity I think I would have never managed to find again, if I were to stay with my feet glued on the solid earth, news of you reached my ears. This is truly the moment when I regretted not following my friends advices that suggested me to keep away from the places we used to go together.

I admit of having asked a lot about you, but I didn't want to believe what people told me, I thought theirs were just well built lies, a thread of words with little meaning, aimed at hurting me to push me away from your happiness. But I had to force myself to wake up before the scaring truth, and it happened when I went to our beach to recall what few memories of you I still dearly cherished in my heart.

Up to that very moment I had almost convinced myself that the memory I still had of you in my mind would have probably been very wrong, you couldn't be that exceptionally beautiful before my eyes, I was perhaps blinded by the result of my imagination that mixed very different features from very pretty men and gave me your face as a result, I repeat: no one could be like you, no one could be you.

But when I glanced at your petite figure from afar, I convinced myself that you were truly an angel, my angel, and that I had mistreated you so badly, while you were just the only reason I wanted to feel alive, outside my bubble of loneliness. I wanted you back in my life, and I was ready to fight for you, I was willing to crawl on the dirty earth and let you take advantage of me, worn me out in revenge, because in the end I was sure you would have forgiven me and taken me back to you.

That's what I liked to think, when our friends revealed me that you struggled to adapt without having me by your side, as if your decision to leave threw itself back at you, shooting your already proved soul. 

I was aware that you left only in fear of seeing your huge love for me twisting into a hatred that didn't match your fragility. No, you loved me dearly, you were crazy in love with me and left in order not to ruin the old dream that pulled us together at the very beginning. It was a self-protection mechanism, and I had to figure it earlier, instead of thinking about all the blame your threw at me and that served as your only resolution to part and let me feel less harmed, than what your hatred might have done on me.

You loved me, and I loved you, but...

I couldn't believe my eyes when you appeared in my sight that day: beaming in joy in your white light shirt and jeans shorts, while you were running, bare feet, on the golden shore, escaping not only the playful, crystal-like blue tides rolling on the sand and hitting your ankles, but also, and most importantly, the taller man that ran after you and hearitly laughed to play along your game.

You stopped running when his arms swiftly caught you around the waist and pulled you in a tight embrace in which you backed more comfortably, probably safe now that you had a steady anchor to support you dreams. Was that it? 

You looked even more beautiful when the warm breeze playfully messed your pitch dark hair and gave you that energetic look that I had missed to see for very long now, and that seeing manifestating right there and then seemed merely a dream to me. A mirage.

He held you tight and made you swirl in his arms, so that his taller figure could glance down at you, now a blushing mess under the hot, comforting sunbeams that embraced the both of you, and slowly, very slowly, like my heart silently shattering in its place, he leaned to kiss you softly, a kiss to which you didn't think too much to respond, looking satisfied to share such a token of affection with the man whom my friends had described to be your future husband.

And so, in the end while I was pushing away thoughts of you, only to drown deeper into my weakness, you parted from me to fall in love with a different man, one that could provide you of a life of dreams that I could only rob you of.

He was the older brother of one of the kids you used to teach privately and that made you hate devoting your life to the piano overnight. He was related to the family that treated you less than trash, and now you dared to think call yours. How many things had exactlychanged since our unfortunate end?

Did you change? Did you become one of them too?

Do you still know where you came from and how many sacrifices you had to do in order to face life in its every ups and downs? Do you remember that I was there with you from the very beginning, or am I a mistake? The mistake of asking out your maths tutor as a result of a wrong excitement over scoring well in a test, which you thought you'd have always failed, no matter after how many attempts.

No, I don't think so.

Looking well at the man that accompanied you on that sunny day, I could see myself a couple of years earlier.

Perhaps I was simply too deluded with how things ended for us, but I took it as a little consolation all the same: he was as tall as me, had shoulders as broad as mine and arms just as strong, that could easily hold you tight against his heart, just like I used to do with you; he had my same hair, probably some facial features were very similar to mine as well, perhaps except my lips, nobody could replicate the lips you labelled as forever kissable, as if I were completely covered in honey and you were my little bee flying and buzzing all around myself, lured to kiss me infinite times. That made me smile. After all, you were still hopelessly in love with me, or you'd have chosen a very different kind of man to marry.

What troubled my mind was that, even if I knew he was my carbon copy, I wanted to have the assurance that you were loved like the prince you've always been.

Did he treat you with the same gentleness which I used to spare for you every single day of our early stages of love? Did he touch you, scared of breaking you, damaging the finest porcelain that you were for me? Did he brush your hair with respect and not pretending that you were just a little kitten to pet? Did he kiss you feverishly? Were his lips burning hot like mine, whenever I left you those little marks on neck, chest, stomach and back and claimed you my property?

If he did, then I had nothing to be sorry for, nothing to blame, even if that meant the true end of our world. 

Although I was looking at a different man holding you tight, I could clearly feel myself reliving the day we used to run together on that very same golden beach, happy to have just completed our latest exam of that period, and satisfied to be spending alone some peaceful time, just the two of us.

You brought a picnic basket and I had some blankets arranged with me. We run one after the other, not hunted with worries but only by the friendly reminder of our mutual feelings, holding our hands and taking long walks one near the other. We played with water, heartily laughing for our being silly, rightfully childish and far away from bigger problems; we splashed it on our clothes, until at sunset they weren't needed anymore.

Under the resting shadow of a weeping willow that grew alone a bit farther from the shore, I laid you gently on the same cover we had just had lunch on to, and I spotted life in your eyes, a twinkling gaze that you directed at me, trusting your existence in my hands, knowing that I wasn't there to nullify it, but to make the flames in your heart explode and burn bigger and redder than the blazing sun that died at the horizon.

The first time I saw you, you were this entincing, little creature wearing a soft skin, purer than white milk, but under the orange sky you took my breath away for the second time. I associated you with a vision of ecstasy, a fantasy, someone who came directly from a fairytale or an ancient myth; you were one of those gods that with their huge concealed love had unconsciously created our planet.

You were my planet and I was the little, insignificant satellite that was bound to revolve around you until the end of time. I felt exceptionally good knowing that I was owning you all. Our first time as one then, and I couldn't ask for it to be better than that. I wanted you to be mine in the most romantic way possible, nothing scripted or planned beforehand: we simply waited for the best occasion without forcing it too much.

Your shallow breath in my ear hit me directly inside, along with your moans that shyly and clumsily called my name, your hands gripped me at the back and it just helped me to feel the tense moment of importance when you gifted me with your precious being; I needed to take care of you, it felt my responsibility never to hurt you and cherish you forever, while I took you at slow speed, with incredible tenderness that I had spared for nobody until you came inside my life.

You deserved just as much, you deserved to be loved, and I was happy to comply, knowing that you had purposefully chosen me to carry out this delicate task.

The scene of you sharing some good time with your future husband drove me endlessly crazy and I left that afternoon, my resolutions totally crumpled like a torn paper hostage of fire.

How could I deal with the disquietness of witnessing my one true love in some other man's embrace? The peaceful resignation that had always dictated the pace of my life stages those past three years faded away and reached acceptation. I now know what you must have felt like, when it dawned on you and made you understand that we were done even before actually trying to blossom into something greater.

Silently and unknowingly, I was entrusting you to a better person than me, someone who could give everything you really wanted.

He couldn't give you me, despite we shared almost the same image, and I pray that you didn't give yourself up to the first figment of imagination that could bring you back to a neutral area filled of memories of us forever locked in a timeless limbo. That man could give you a new life, a new house, a new piano and new dreams, but he could never bring you back to where I was, eternally waiting for you.

If I'm leaving you this long note in your past diary, the one you gave me to understand our problems never voiced, it's because I hope I'll find the strength one day to send it back to you. You'd probably know how to take care of it better than I did, plus you need to know everything I couldn't say while blinded by my huge love for you.

Ryeowook you were probably my only friend back then, and you never asked for much than cutting a little space for yourself to silently watch over my doings every day, curious to know which kind of life I led at the dorms between books and videogames. My friend became much more when I allowed him to change shape and shift to another level of importance.

From the moment I confessed, I deleted my shyness, I erased my loneliness, because having you by my side meant to always confront with the better side of me I feared the most, the side of me that contemplated things like love and happiness. You were my love, you were my happiness, you were my life back then.

You were my guiding star, lit at night to help me find my rightful path in the darkness; you called for me with your vibrant energy from up there and overpowered the moon with your light, which always told me never to give up, because there was nothing to fear more than feeling unaccomplished by my own hands.

You shifted into the warm sun during mornings, and greeted me with a sweet smile whenever we slept in together on the weekends. I was so glad to have you there, snuggled in my little bed, that was too small to hold us both and therefore didn't give me any comfort, but was the perfect place to sleep together right for the lack of space. In my arms you laid still, alert because the tiniest move would have made us fall down on the hard floor, but still you were happy there with me when you caressed my face and traced every feature with such sweetness, I feared I could melt under your touch.

You, with your naiveté, and me, maybe lacking too much of it, were the perfect opposing poles of a battery, always ready to give each other energy and be shaken by a thrill of sparkling electricity.

Just like how the first page of this diary recites: we were two rough diamonds, two jewels that since hadn't been worked up, cut and polished to reach the desired brilliancy, weren't worth to invest into, but I swear I would have invested in you the very first moment you came into my life, if only I had known which kind of intimate bond we would have been about to pursue. 

Nothing could erase my many mistakes, when I left you alone right on the moment you needed me the most. I don't want to do it once again, therefore I'm now investing in your diamond, which is now being polished and cut to its most powerful brilliancy, and I'll back off once and forever, never daring to ruin the precarious balance you could reach in all this time without leaning on me for help. 

We were beautiful, we truly were. My diamond has never seen anyone taking care of it, except for you, but once you turned away it simply became a common piece of black, dirty coal, nothing comparable to your value.

The day you'll be receiving this hidden letter is the day I would leave for a far longer journey.

Now empty of all the resentment for the adversity that pulled us apart, I can keep on watching over you following my very personal style. 

Perhaps that's why I had to rob you of your wings, so that I could fly above and watch you at a closer distance. Although I can't physically hug you anymore, my arms will be forever encircling your waist, rocking you to sleep when you can't have sweeter dreams; swaying you in an intimate dance as if enacting our holiday at the beach, when we played with the splashing waves. My hands will be placed on your shoulders to relieve you of those heavy weights that trouble your heart, my palms will always adhere to your cheeks and cup your face, ready to wipe away your tears and caress that shy, yet illuminating smile you only know how to gift people with. And even if your finger is now trapped with the sacred promise of someone else's love, mine will be always slipping through yours, so we can interwine them and re-form our lost link.

Day by day, I'll watch you grow up and cherish that link. With it, when time will be ripened enough, I'll come back to steal you away and show you what I turned into after many struggles and tears. We were beautifully unsteady, crazily incompatible, while being two waiting diamonds, too powerful to happen just yet. But giving up to mine means that you could grow yours into a truly marvelous jewel. 

When your jewel will be ready to meet my charcoal again, people will see just how much we suffered and thus how much alike we are. Too different, yet too alike not to share a sole pair of wings to support our flight in the deep blue sky. Only then, my empty soul will be refilled of what I had to give up in order to pay for your happiness. Only then, you'll give yourself up to me again, and we will freely run, hand in hand, wherever we want to, laugh and play and love. Only then I will be given the time to love you again, after learning how to, and that moment will be eternal for us who will have to stick together until the end of time, somewhere in the after life.

In the meanwhile, I'm betting everything on your happiness, as the last way to repent my sins towards you.

But I'm sure you'll come and look for me and I'll wait for you.

Because after all, we were exactly born to be each other's missing half and you might just want never stop to shine together, like diamonds in the sky, like foolish in love.