What I didn’t know about absence

You told me that absence is more important than presence.

Bullshits.
I know that if someone doesn’t miss you now, will never miss you at all.
As I know that absence is not only a physical presence, but also looks like.
Glances too proud to say “I miss you”.

You told me I would have found myself in that absence.

I always drown in an inch of water.
And maybe that was true, I found a piece of me, but the other pieces I would have done better to let them go.
The problem is that I didn’t know where to let them go. Or, indeed, I did not have the courage.

You told me that facing backwards, looking me from the rearview mirror, I would have missed me.

But the young, fragile and stupid me… I only am fond of her.
I want to shake and say her: “wake up! look at the reality! after the dark there will be light”.
But if I had not been inside chaos, if I had not gone below certain things, I would not be who I am.
So that’s fine. I’m happy with my mistakes. After all I also had fun with them.

You told me that the complicit silence is presence.

And you were fucking right.
A life full of words and then you realize how communicative is a gesture, a look, a caress.

But you did not tell me that absence kill you.

That corrodes you inside.
That the hands can’t turn counterclockwise.
That people comes in your life and one day, at four o’clock in the afternoon, doesn’t come back.

You did not tell me that you should be careful to forget people, because when you least expect it, people may come back.

And in that moment you may find out that you‘ve missed them.

But above all, you did not tell me that there is nothing more beautiful than an hug accompanied by only three words:

“I missed you”.