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Pain
My back hurts, but I walked to the mail anyway. A friend needs some documents, and I could use some outdoor thinking.
And after I’ve filled some names and addresses, got my change and walked outside the mail office, I leaned against an iron bar and just let myself be for a minute. I watched the cars and the people passing and the only thing I could think was “How come they are moving, breathing and living and not worrying about her?”
And as the absolute ridiculous of this question ran me down, my eyes lift themselves up to the sky and all the colors and clouds and the sunshine made me remember everything is full of beauty, regardless my soul on fire.
And the city that nested me a few months of love seemed surprisingly dear.
And there was not a single face around me that was ugly.
And all this pain I feel and that I’ve felt so much seemed almost friendly, just like a simple reminder that I’m alive and that I was there.
And the short flashback I had of my Spanish days seemed but a short film of my whole life: There was a summer, and there was true love.
And now there’s pain, and it’s so cold.
And if I fall, I’ll rise again.
And I regret nothing.
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