Get out, you said, because that was all you had left to say. Because I had left you and you do not understand. Because you asked me why and I told you I had not, and that it hurt, it hurt more than anything, but if I told you there was another, more than if you had said you had done something wrong. Because that could at least have understood. But when one leaves, no reasons, no excuses. The reason you stop to another is so simple and so stupid you have to disguise the motives, explanations, words of comfort or blame, guilt or anger. The truth is that no longer take any more. I've done something wrong, it hurts and can not take any more. I've done something wrong, I feel guilty and did not take it anymore. Neither have done anything, but that does not feel anything and did not take it anymore. I do not want this anymore, I want to change. Is so much difficult to accept that there is no reason that we need to invent to make sense of all that we have lived together.
I long, not without some remorse of conscience for your pain, your expression confused and upset, your sad eyes and know that once I had gone, throw thee to mourn. Pain alone is bitter, but this is the only way to feel real. I walked the streets of your neighborhood, thinking that hopefully call a friend to tell her what happened, to share and lighten its weight, get drunk on the memories and negative adjectives that could be used and have a guilty, responsible for your sadness. And I wished with all my heart that you did not think I ever thought when I left that I did not mean, that was a lie, perhaps confused feelings or that I took advantage of you, but I did not mean. Because he loved you as much as the will of another, much as I could while I could. Until all became meaningless and simply can no longer bear.
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