You’ve built THE WALL

I’m gonna have to write this in English, so maybe, you can read with your own blue eyes how I lived the past few months under your enchantment.

I could do it in Spanish, so you wouldn’t know how much it hurt… But the point is not to get in contact with you again, I’m writing this in other language since this was OUR daily Spanglish. I just feel it’s the right thing to do, since I’m taking the time to vent out. You’ll probably never read it anyways, so here it goes.

We met online. Remember? Like any other modern couple starts a love story in this century. The ‘Good morning’, the ‘How was your day?’ texts were part of our non-stop conversations, until we got promoted to call ourselves ‘Love, sweetheart, amor, sweetpea, Pooh bear, corazón’, etc.

It all happened when the world started to change too. Even though there’s gonna be a physical wall between us, you promised that the government wouldn’t stop you from being with me. ‘You are it, Danna. I’m done searching. I’m ready to be with someone else. We are gonna make it work, love. My friends would LOVE you. I want a woman like you around my daughter.’

Those are just a few of the 158,943 texts I recieved from you. I said a thousand times ‘Yes’ to those. Blushing to my stupid phone and everything. I don’t have to put every detail here so people can know we were on the same page. You know that, and the readers will relate to it aswell.

For a very strange reason I started to get attached to you, even though I didn’t know in person, what it seemed, the wonderful man through my phone. We managed to keep in touch 24/7 considering we both traveled during those first months and our busy schedules from work, and somehow, I felt that was a good sign. We even named the whole thing ‘our normal’, when I asked you if we were crazy for doing this, because one day, after several months of talking, you bought me a plane ticket so we could have our ‘first date’.

Four days by your side. We were so fucking excited, remember? We counted the days… The hours. Until I finally saw your blue eyes staring at me at the airport. My God… You were real. Way more handsome than in your pictures. You hugged me. You took my hand while you were driving, and all of those cute details that people do when they are into someone else. I kissed you in every red light, too.

We got to your place and you gave me this gorgeous necklace you bought at some art gallery while you were on your vacations. In fact, I’m wearing it right now feeling like it doesn’t have a meaning anymore. I remember the day you told me you got me something from Hawaii and I thought it was the cutest thing ever. I got you a bottle of Mezcal that you’ll probably never drink. Cacao candy aswell.

You know what happened the rest of the days.

I thought it was so cute when, on our ‘first date’, we had italian food for breakfast, in that cute little place, our table next to the window, and the cloudy sky right in front of us. You stared at me and said you loved my hair. I blushed like a 18-year-old.

During those days I told you a bunch of times I was happy as I slept on your chest. You gave me kisses on my forehead, and you said you felt the same way. We laughed, we walked, we smoked, you took me to dinner to some place because you wanted me to know the food from your so loved hometown, we told each other stories from our families, and we… We were us the whole time. I loved being with you all day in bed, under the pouring rain.

Even your cute little puppy Sally and I became good friends.

You probably couldn’t tell, but I kissed a dozen times your big ‘LOST’ tattoo on your back, the one with the big maze, while you were in your sleep. Every time I kissed your inked skin I was wondering if I was getting lost in your heart and kindness.

I remember thinking, ‘How are we gonna make it possible?’ Because I was actually worried.

This is what I won’t forget. The last night you told me we were gonna make it work. Your own words. ‘Danna, we are gonna make it work, baby.’ The next day at the airport, you also said, ‘I’m gonna see you again, OK?’, as I nodded with tears running down my face.

As soon as I got home and texted you, as you demanded, things changed.

Now everything is upside down. I don’t understand what went wrong. I asked you the next day if we were OK, and you said yes… So I didn’t want to ask again, but I know there’s something missing.

In three days I was no longer your ‘Love’ or ‘Sweetpea’. No ‘Good morning texts’. No ‘good night’, no ‘I can’t wait to see you, baby.’

I’m not stupid, Pooh bear. I can read between the lines, specially if there are no lines anymore.

This is not my first palenque, papi. 

Today, a week since the last time I talked to you, I woke up realizing that I fell in love with your words. WORDS. The joke’s on me because I am a writer. For God’s sake! I should have known better! These groups of letters are my every-day, and guess what, Sweetie? I got played by them. I fell in love by your words. I imagined and truly I believed I found a good man. I compromised, I accepted you with no judgement at all, and I cross the damn country to kiss your soft lips.

And now I’m here scrolling down on FB, watching your posts and tons of videos on social media. So I know you are not dead, you just don’t want to talk to me anymore.

I’m here watching you slowly building this huge wall between us.

I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself for not seeing the whole picture. You made me happy for a few months, sure, pushed me to be a better person, more tolerant, more aware of people trying to take advantage of me, considering you were one of them, but that’s fine.

I’m not mad, papi, I’m just disappointed and heartbroken.




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