Amira (Bitter Love Story)

I don't know if your sudden appearance is an omen. Watching myself sitting on that bus stop in the middle of the night was already weird enough before you started distorting my memories and sneaking into them with no permission at all. There you were, standing on the other side of the street, waiting for the right moment to cross to my side. Unlike several other times that I’ve found you in these kind of dreams I didn't run away from you, I stayed astonished while I saw getting closer to me. Every step you made towards my direction echoed in my body, to distinguish your face, the one from the person I deem the 'keeper of my senses' with even more clarity was my ruin. Completely stunned, I tried to keep myself calm and maintain my composure.

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You sat by my side and began speaking to me, I couldn't comprehend any word that came out of your mouth, I couldn't hear them. The only sense that worked for me that strange night was my vision, seeing you again so close and real was disturbing enough to make me crumble and reduce me to a simple spectator, a mere spirit that lose control of its own body to your invading presence. The bus we were waiting arrived in due time and blinded us with its headlights, I was surprised we were going the same way, but more surprised of how inertial I followed you. You woke up my touch and I went straight for your hands, looking for that mellow peace they used to give me and I hadn't experienced in months. Both of us were silently looking at this desolated and poorly illuminated city where I was so surprised to find you, because I used to imagined you lost in the beloved twilights of your hometown.

Your demeanor was the biggest difference I gathered from your face, it was a long time since I felt you this happy and affectionate, this warm. Why did you appear, Amira? What brings you to these streets you refused to visit while you were still alive? Always reluctant to get out of your four walls, whether because of fear, lack of time or plain indifference. I just realized today would be a year since the last visit I made you, I almost forget that day, where your undaunted reactions and your distance were written permanently on my mind. This specter you made me be is full of questions, but your power keeps shutting them violently. I'm still alive, Amira, if that's what you wanted to know. I'm sure you're aware of it, as you're also aware that I have preferred to pretend that you left this world, that your existence was not more than a transitory incident, an emotional kidnapping, a mental imbalance. You know me, you know I have that bittersweet sensation within my chest, the unease of our unfair disagreement.

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Why is there a part of me still determined to make you reappear in my life then? I have kept my promise and tied my curiosity by their hands and feet, but the margin of your world is obsessed with the idea of colliding with mine using unwanted reminders of your obvious survival. I wonder if I should have accepted your last direct intention of contact, if I should have verified that the hand you were laying out to me was a true attempt of getting things in order between us once and for all, but I refused. After all your tricks and undeserved spacing, it was inconceivable that those intentions were others than making me a prisoner of you again, like many other times before.

I don't know what's going to happen when that imaginary margin that separates us is reduced to zero by the work of the wicked casualty that govern our lives and I’m only left with the option of giving up and release my curiosity, which I know as destructive as a hydrogen bomb. Nevertheless, I have to admit that I live consumed by the doubt as the big fan of bad ideas that I sadly am. But I’m so sure of the risk you represent that I’d rather stay here, mourning our memories and the half hemisphere you removed from my days when I decided to pick myself before you.

Am I also a constant appearance in your dreams?

Am I also a figure stalking you when you think you're finally forgetting me?

Or maybe you have forgotten about me already and I’m left alone here, trying to figure out a way to put an end to all these thoughts you left in my head.

I'm still alive, Amira.

And while this plea may never reach to you, I’ll ask the wind, even if its silence or its answer hurts me: How's it going out for you, my love?