Today I understood the message I tried to avoid for so long. It’s over. It really is over.
I took a long walk that lasted around one hour. I passed by all the places we gave meaning to, preparing for farewell. I leave my hair behind, and together with it, I'll leave you and our memories.
I look around…everywhere people who pass, but none of them you.
I won't lie: I did look for you. Even today, even though meeting you by chance stopped long ago.
And maybe there is a reason why. We played our roles. You were mine and I was yours, you taught me love, I taught you life. But that’s it. Our mission is over; only I didn’t want to believe it. I kept longing for you when I was supposed to let you go.
And yet today I leave my hair behind. The hair you gently caressed and admired, the hair that carries our most intimate memories.
I thought I would regret, but I don’t. I am just sad, because even now, even when I’m finally facing the ending, I stupidly hold onto a possible sign. I silently hope destiny would make him pass by the café I write this in. But this won't happen anymore because it’s no longer supposed to. We shouldn’t meet. Not now, maybe not ever.
And now, staying here, in this coffee shop, while writing down my thoughts, it feels as if time has slowed down. Couples keep passing and happy people’s laughter fills in my empty atmosphere.
But today I am leaving my hair behind. I am starting a new chapter and maybe, just maybe, one day I will be able to be one of them. And by then I will finally laugh frenetically, with such passion that all the pain will crumble down and disappear. I will finally have the power to trust and love someone else.
But we both know that’s bullshit. It’s only the false illusion I sell to myself each cold night, when my eyes won’t close, and my brain won’t shut down.
This is the illusion I kept selling to myself ever since that cold November day. And guess what? I still can't get myself to believe it!
I’ve left my hair behind, but I am afraid I won't be able to escape. Because the moment I let you go, a part of me will go too. And that part is the one you created: Miss Forest, me, the one who writes now.
…so, tell me, why are you still here, even though I left my hair behind?