The typewriter of a heart

[heart-typewriter]

-What do you think

[heart-typewriter]

I think it is fair to say that I did not fell in love with her; I fell in love with the way she made me feel. She tangled me, without knowing, with every feeling she awoken in me. It is not moment to point fingers on who is guilty and this that has now become unsolvable. It became like those games of my childhood; rigged so I could win. And I became as I was then; without knowing when to leave. 

It hasn’t passed enough time for my memories to take me to her with the tranquility and peace needed to appreciate her in the way she deserves, but it will eventually. The idea of going back to her again still excites me, even if its just for a day, even if its just for an evening. Everything is done, and there is nothing to say. The last words I had to write have already been written and it seems that this is just an effort to not let go, to stay. I will have to let mi pen, I will have to let my young and stupid heart rest, for I have still to live all that awaits, and then end the ink of the pen I already started. 

[heart-typewriter]

“Without sun and without blue magic, you are the flower I always took”

[heart-typewriter]

They didn’t spend much time together, but time did pass. The news on television kept appearing and disappearing, the people on the streets kept walking. A world ended, but many other continued; spinning, and decaying too. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to go with the sounds; with the people who passed, with the music, and every sound of the worlds that did continue. He loosed himself in places where even he wasn’t there. Tranquility is measured in function of the disturbs not present. Every moment ended, nobody understood.  It became closer and everyone closed their eyes again. ¿Will they arrive? ¿Will it come back? I don’t know it there is something left, the days pass and the news keep going. 

[heart-typewriter]

 Us and Them

The river continued, so did we, coming together and apart as it ran downhill. 

But it would never be the same, for my eyes had seen beauty and my hands touched her hair. Like the dreamer, who never gets to be the same after waking up, just a mere hint, a taste, was enough for me. And I knew well, in that moment when I first held her close, that I was never going to look at sunsets the same way I did before.

She always suggested the idea of lost time; as if there was a destination to be, and every second not being there was wasted forever. But I don’t believe in wasted time; every second, every mindless fight, every kiss, every caress and every insignificant conversation was important and vital. Every moment spent with her was special, not because they were perfect or even happy, but just because every moment near her was magic. In the most joyous and painful ways, it was magic. Every moment was full of color. 

I remember very well how me first met. Someone introduced us, I remember the exact moment I saw her. She seemed so complete, like she needed nothing from anyone or the world. She looked unaffected by everything going around her. I was instantly drawn to her. I don’t know what took hold of me, I would have never have spoken to her, she looking the way she did, and me, being the way I am. I didn’t understand the feeling back then, I couldn’t put into words. I have gone back to that night to try and describe just how it felt, how everything happened but it always failed. It was just recently that I discovered how it felt when they first introduced her to me; it felt like they introduced me to someone I already knew.

It was strange. As if I knew that later I would spend so much time looking at her face while she was looking out of my car’s window. I would stare at her, watching how she touched the window with her fingers, like she longed to be out. Of course when she realized I was looking at her I forced my eyes back to the road and acted innocent, but the smile in my face always betrayed me.

[heart-typewriter]

No puedo sentir nada mas que agradecimiento por ella, por cada vez que me ha decepcionado y por cada vez que he llorado. No hay otra cosa mas que un profundo sentimiento de tranquilidad, harmonía y calidez por ella. Cada enojo, cada duda y cada confusión me ha traído más y más acá; haciéndome y deshaciéndome, llenándome de ilusión y de tristeza. Cada sentimiento en el espectro de emociones que despierta en mi es mágico, y uno no puede más que agradecer por todo. Sé que le preocupa no hacerme daño, pero ella sabe que no podemos controlar lo que le hacemos a las personas. Podemos tocarlas de maneras tan complejas y profundas sin saber lo que hacemos o sentimos. Sí me he sentido triste, y a veces yo mismo me he lastimado, pero no puedo sentirme así mucho tiempo cuando hay tanta belleza también. Me ha dado tantas cosas que no puedo poner en palabras, ha llenado de magia mi cuerpo entero. Al encontrar algo tan lleno de misterio y alegría parecería casi instintivo querer poseerlo, mantenerlo propio para siempre. Pero no se puede, no sé si quiera cuanto más tiempo quede a su lado. He aprendido a amar cada momento, y cuando ella se tenga que ir, si lo decide, no tendré nada mas que agradecimiento por cada luz encendida que ha dejado en mi vida. Y si bien nunca estuvimos juntos realmente, nada fue perdido y ninguna emoción en vano; el agradecimiento infinito que siento es más grande que cualquier momento, y no tengo nada más que alegría por el tiempo que estuve con ella y por la calidez que recorre mi cuerpo cada vez que escucho su nombre. 

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I can´t feel nothing but grateful to her; for every time she has let me down and for every time I have cried. There is no other thing but a profound feeling of tranquility, harmony, and warmth for her. With every enmity, every doubt, and each confusion she has brought me more and more here; making me and unmaking me, filling me with desire and grief. Every feeling in the spectrum of emotions she wakes in me is magical, and one can't do anything but be grateful for everything. I know she worries about hurting me, but she knows that we can’t control what we do to other people. We can touch them in ways so complex and profound without knowing what we are doing or feeling. I have felt sad and sometimes I hurt myself, but I can't feel that way for long when there is also so much beauty. She has given me many things I can't put into words, she has filled with magic my whole body. When finding something full of secrecy and joy it would seem almost instinctive to posses it, to keep it to oneself forever.  But that can't be, I don’t even know how much time I have left by her side. I have learned to love every moment, and when she has to go, if she decides to, I won't have anything but gratitude for every light she has lit on my life . And though we were never really together, nothing was lost and no emotion was in vain; the infinite gratefulness I feel is bigger than any moment, and I have nothing but happiness for the time I spent with her and for the warmth that runs trough my body every time I hear her name. 

[heart-typewriter]

[heart-typewriter]

[heart-typewriter]

Have you ever thought that maybe we don’t see things the same way other people do? Have you ever imagined that I see your face differently than you, or anyone else? I have been thinking that maybe we perceive things in a different manner; I may pay too much attention to some details thus making a completely different image. Perhaps other people wont see the gold I see in your hair; maybe because they wont feel the magic I feel when I’m around you. Sometimes I think of the idea of abstraction and Aristotle, and I do believe that objects are nothing by themselves and that perception is the key, but I also think that Piaget can be expanded. I think that maybe every single face we see is permanently changed by our perception, by who we are, what we know, and how we feel. Maybe that is the great mystery of the weakness of the human face.

[heart-typewriter]

Your voice comes to me like like needle to skin. There is no sound. I despair when you are far, I look for you in every person. I wait for you scratching myself. Before seeing you I listen to your voice in my head, I prepare myself, my body prepares itself; I feel the tension in my muscles and the pressure on my skin, everything grows to that moment when I have you. And then in happens. My shoulders rest, my skin relaxes, I feel my body float, freed after the wait, tranquil  after the night. I close my eyes with you voice wandering my body. 

[heart-typewriter]

Camila,

I don’t know when was the last time I wrote to you. Sometimes I allow myself to let the days pass without letting you know you how I feel, I shelter in my silence and trust you know already. I don’t want to spend the voice that repeats the light my eyes see on you. I don’t want to spend the words that try and fail with every time I think of you. I come back to you and your image because I can´t have enough. The days you are away torture me and your memory visits me every night to tell me what has been stuck like an echo in my head. I follow you trough the dark.

You should be tired of listening every time I allow myself to confess how I feel, overtime i can’t hold it. The truth is that this scares me more because I don’t know when it started and I don’t know when it will end, you are becoming now anti-rational and vital.

[heart-typewriter]

¿What to do to get to you? Not to you, but to your thoughts. ¿What to do to get at last to your thoughts? You got in mine since the first day and you have been immutable there without knowing what I do for you. ¿What achievement is needed? Of which warm words has my pen lacked? You are everywhere now and I start disappearing. If I haven't vanished is because of the idea of meaning something to you. Not the idea, the illusion, the hope. You and I know I go where the wind wants, but since I saw your eyes the strangest thing happened. Maybe the most natural. I haven't gone anywhere, I don't want either. 

[heart-typewriter]

I would like if you could listen to my ideas and saw the way they happen when I am with you. That you felt the flow of emotions that floods me being by your side. How many moments have I seen your hand and wished to hold it? I feel how I blur in emotion and how blood runs trough me faster and how y stop thinking and leave my body. I feel the infinite emotion when Im about to do it and then I think of what I feel. I think that feeling that is feeling alive, I feel alive. I close my eyes and let the feeling run trough me, that the body fill with nerves and the emotion paralyze me. I feel every part of my body being affected by your presence and the idea of our bodies touching. It floods me. I loose myself. When I open my eyes the moment is gone and I don't have the opportunity I did before. You talk about something else, you changed position. Everything was an infinite instant inside me. That is being alive. it is the best evidence I have that I am really alive. Those emotions that fills the body and send flying. I don't exist because I think. 

[heart-typewriter]

Sometimes it sends me flying how the things are different for all of us. The individuality of emotions that were made besides someone. Few things of the experiences that I have had in my life makes me as sad as thinking that what I have felt next to someone are not similar to what they felt in that moment.

I wish i could have your eyes to see everything the way you do.

If you had my eyes you would only see yourself.

[heart-typewriter]

Every time I write to you my ink finishes. With my feelings the ink gets with the paper and like that they stay.

Every time I write you I finish. With me feelings I don't get anywhere. I stay here writing, finishing my ink. 

I wait for you. I get excited and I wait. With doubts, with nerves, with anxiety I wait. I sit here with my ink and my paper and I wait. Almost without words, I wait. 

[heart-typewriter]

[heart-typewriter]

You talk without words and you say more than anyone. Your silence screams to me, it floods me. I can't think of nothing less because I can't think of nothing more. 

Each breath is vital. Each breath is death. I don't know what else I can do when the words fail me. I try to continue but i fall,I try to stop but I get up.