I can’t. I just can’t.
I can’t tell you how much you mean to me. How much I care about you. How much I miss you when you’re away.
I can’t tell you how much I love you.
There are no second chances in life and I think I missed mine.
You were there during the bad and the good, and because of you I kept going forward. You kept me on my feet when I couldn’t even stand. You were the light to my darkness. You were my hope.
So I write this to you to let the burden off my shoulders one last time before I go.
There was a time I wanted to tell you all of this. But courage failed me and I couldn’t.
I was afraid.
I was afraid of losing you. I was afraid of being vulnerable again.
I was scared because, let’s be honest, when you tell someone you love them, you lose all your protection. Your walls break down, your masks fall off and your armor comes down.
All that is left is you standing naked, with a loaded gun in your hand. And as you offer it to the one you love, you know you’re giving them the opportunity to take you down. To destroy everything you’ve built over the years. You’re giving them a clear shot at your heart. You’re trusting them with your life, with your heart, with everything you have. You’re giving them the chance to hurt you, to shatter your soul into a thousand pieces until all that’s left of you is a corpse going through life heartlessly, lifelessly and soullessly.
And that’s why I was afraid…”
I had spent the night serving drinks to people of all kinds, from middle-aged-businessmen and chic women to every kind of creep there is. But there was one particular man that struck me out of everybody. He had a paper in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.
He ordered it early in the evening, but hadn’t actually taken any sip from it. He just sat there, doing nothing, staring at that piece of paper as if it was alive.
I went to talk to him and ask him if he was going to stay any longer because it was closing time.
“Sir… Excuse me sir but I have to ask you to leave, we’re clo…”
At that moment he lifted his head and I was speechless. I used to think that no one, no matter how bad life was, could really be dead inside. I was wrong. When that man looked at me, it felt like all the joy and happiness was sucked out of me. He was a corpse, a moving one for sure, but a soulless one.
His eyes were empty. There was no expression in them, no joy, no desperation, no anger, no sadness, there was no feeling, nothing.
He looked at me without really looking, as if he wasn’t sure if I was really there, and he excused himself for staying so long. You could see that he wasn’t really speaking to me, but more to himself as if he just realized that he had just spent the whole night in a bar. As he apologized he stood up, paid for the drink, wore his coat and walked out of the bar and into the freezing cold of a new rising morning.
After looking at him for a few seconds, I turned back to the table to clean it before finally getting off and I saw it, the piece of paper that the man was holding. I rushed out of the door to try and give it back to him, but he was nowhere to be found, as if the earth had swallowed him whole.
So I went back inside and started looking for a name or an address that may help me contact the man so I could give it back to him, but I found nothing.
Instead there was a hand written letter on it. I know I should have thrown it away but something was telling me to read it, so I sat in a corner and did.
“… but I’m not scared anymore. You left and I know for a fact that life without you is no life at all.
This is my final goodbye. I’m leaving for a place where you can’t follow me. I’m finally going to be free. Free from all the pain, the hurt, and most of all free from all this fear.
Darling, I’m going to miss you so much…