Love Story

Calling A Short Love Story | Love Stories to Read

I forgot you. For a moment I came to believe that I was able to empty my mind of your presence, breathe again and rid my heart of your parasitism, in short, of being able to return to having the barren and arid life that I dragged until you crossed into it.

I gagged my memories, silenced your voice in my head, I broke all those records and those photos, those letters and those calls, I undid the looks and the caresses, the walks and the smiles, I forgot your eyes, your silences, I drowned out my feelings.

I hated you I cursed every second of my life that you had given meaning to. I despised intimacy and regained the anxiety of not wanting to see you again. I desecrated my devotion to you and divorced my dependence on you.

And after the catharsis, releasing tears like rivers and letting all the anger and despair flow, I managed to go out again and walk through the park without your supernatural light bathing everything in beauty and perfection, and I managed to return to that cafeteria in which we were meeting, ignoring the memories that will be etched forever on its walls and windows.

I have again lost the afternoons playing football with those friends whom I repudiated on so many occasions for being able to see you. I have reconnected with other girls, even though I know your bar is too high for any of them. I have even returned to writing about things that had nothing to do with you, after you had the exclusivity of my inspiration for so long.

It is because of all this that I do not understand why I am shaking now that I hear the phone ringing, and when I hold it on my sweaty hands and see that your name appears on the screen, I am not able to clarify my ideas, or find the right words and yet I unconsciously pick up to hear you say between sobs and with a small voice that we have to speak.

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