Insecurities

If it was about me, I would prefer everything to go the right way. You look at me. Nobody else is there. You come back in the house, full of desire to just be with me… We will go for dinner and you will bring me my favorite flowers. We would laugh and then go to bed…

But you go away and for days I don’t exist in a place different than your little phone. In the little words that we could exchange between one task and another, one person and another, one impression and another. You saw a girl today, laughing with her friends. She appeared in your dreams and you woke up, discovering the excitement of your body. I was taking a shower and wondering if it would be more convenient to leave. That song reminded you of your ex-girlfriend and you felt the urge to write to her: “I miss you. I still love you! Do you remember this day…”, but you didn’t. It wouldn’t be right. And I didn’t go to have dinner with that man, who made me blush. What would I say later to you? And what if it would work better with him?

We came one day from the bar. You were still brushing your teeth and I came to bed. Scrolling through my phone. You laid next to me. I kept scrolling as if it would take me a little less effort than looking at you right now. Hey, I am tired, let’s leave it for tomorrow. And behind those words, we were hiding our fears: what if it is all gone? Do I still respect him? Am I still finding her beautiful?

You came out of that meeting and automatically started writing to me, but something stopped you. I would ask too many questions. You called your friend, just to laugh away the tension. You would tell me tonight, but I was late because coming back home was a little bit heavy. So I walked in the park and the currents were passing through my body.

You cooked my favorite meal and I was sitting there, right in front of you with my thoughts running away from the room, from that city. What would have happened, I was wondering, if I would have gone to live in Torino. Somewhere there, while imagining my life without you, I lost the track of words.

I love you. But could we have this weekend away from each other?

You spoke to that young woman in the shop. She asked you something and you replied. Suddenly your eyes were energised. I became a little bit more angry. But not because you were excited. She had that fresh body, walking around like a cat between the stations. I saw her boobs and imagined her fresh nipples. Imagine your desire to taste them. And maybe you didn’t even think about it, but I assumed you would get hard if you would feel her warmth and wetness between your fingers. And I got a little angry, but out of sadness. Could I give that feeling to you again? And I felt a little bit helpless. Could I see the sparks in your eyes again?

So since that day, I have been planning my leaving. I was imagining how I would arrange my luggage and purchase my plane tickets. I will leave you the car and take that little book that we bought together. And with the tears, I was also feeling relieved, sensing the big distance that would appear between me and you. Distance, in which you could be happy. I was planning to leave, but not because I didn’t love you. Just because I wanted to give you the space to live your life again. To remove myself as I would remove an obstacle, a stain on your collar.

In the silence of the hours between us, I felt the impossibility of becoming big enough, so I could feel all your gaps, and needs, and desires. I was too small, almost invisible, disappearing. What if I bring that woman to you? What if I can make myself look at your desire and your passion, even if it is directed to someone else? What if I can cheer your orgasms, with your penis inside of her? What if I can make peace that someone somewhere has a fitter body, more beautiful face, more funny jokes, and maybe… an attitude to get to know you deeper? What if I could stay in peace with the thought, that someone, somewhere could make you more happy?

I left you the keys on the table and walked. Walked towards the airplane, losing my thoughts in the roar of its engines. Walking. With the wind behind my back, letting it erase the sensation of you on my skin. Time will do its job. For now, just walking. Sensing the pain in my collar bones, when thinking that we have said our last goodbye.

I don’t leave when I stop loving. I leave when I know that my love cannot fulfill you. That my love no longer brings the excitement in the room. I leave to not feel how my body is shrinking in the bed when I reach out to your penis and he is not reacting. I leave, because I fear the day when you will look at me with pity and wonder why are you busy with me. I leave because if I would stay, my body would disappear.

And I leave with the hope that someone, somewhere will never make me feel this way.