Chronicle II

At 17:30 on an unsuspicious Monday I made a decision that I knew was not the right one. I even talked to someone, materialized the idea and it remained incorrect but my impulsiveness always win. So frequently adjusted the dress that I spent an afternoon selecting and put my best smile to return the unfinished look he gave me. For our luck, we have similar gestures, which makes the conversation between two complex people a little bit easier.

The more words passed and more layers of shyness were removed, the less incorrect that moment felt, but both you and I keep hearing a noise that did not leave us alone. It was the error forming, the code in the air warning what would come.

It was at 6:00, when the shadows started to decreased that I felt the weight of the error and how much I wanted it to not be wrong. It was the following hundreds and thousands of seconds that sculpted reality, that established cuts and therefore truths.

At 15:00 on any Monday, months later, I kept cursing the same story and the same mistakes, hating the same characters.

It is not what I would like, no it would be indispensable in what would follow. It was by no means the cornerstone of my future. But it were the soft moments I longed to have and the calm looks, although sometimes, full of the same immaturity and cruelty that was so familiar.

Now, it is the idea of ​​giving up. It does not feel bad, not as failure, but as in a silent way I have given a lot for something that is not worth it, that sincerely has already been and will not be in the future. For now, I attempt to close the doors that were already closed for me.