The beginning of a late to arrive end.

"Sometimes words get short and love get skinny; 

after that they all come along, the other signs of malignancy."

After opening her soul entirely... or almost entirely anyway, he just couldn't reply. He probably didn't know how, or worst, he felt it wasn't worth it. Not anymore. He just managed to tell her to read a book.

"Can a book change a life?" she asked, half waiting for a bit of hope to cling to, half for a spark of hope inside him that she could actually change her ways. But she got none when he reluctantly replied "No."

What was she thinking? that 24 years were going to magically transform and fill with possibility with a three letter word?, probably not... but it would be nice if possible. 

Now she was left with two options. Do nothing and prepare for a life destined to this present unhappiness but "security", or drop everything and find the one soul as empty as hers, with the possibilities of thriving together or dying together as the same. 

She wasn't being punished, she deserved every piece of this. She was fully aware. And it went back to those days, those innocent days where decisions were made lightly and lives couldn't be hurt cause they had all the time in the world to heal. It's a medical fact that the healing process gets harder and slower with age.

A look at the present, and those days are now long time gone. People grow at the blink of an eye. Years go by as a shortly extended season. 

He brought her back to that virtual moment and said "You're slightly cold and careless, if that's what you want to hear. It's not the first time either, that I say it, you always seek to drive people to the point where they tell you your defects, just so you hear another voice saying it... or to confirm them in some twisted way.". And as usually he did when he wanted out of a conversation starting to deepen, he said "Nothing else to say right now."

She hated that, being left with no apparent space to respond... still she did, every time. "It's not twisted, it's desperate. It's easier to be something if no one else notices it.". She took a deep breath, to herself, --she knew she was really alone in that room and many other rooms for that matter-- and added "I learned that I thrive when times are at their worst. I probably hoped it would work in all other circumstances."

He didn't reply. Or maybe, again, she just said that last part to herself. There was not much logical sense in sharing that anyway, no one is listening, remember?

Did she ever loved him? or her feelings were just furtive glimpses of love? furtive glimpses of something like it, perhaps...

What happens when words suddenly stop?

What happens when topics get short?

What happens when there's nothing left to say?

She wrote:

One person

History repeating itself

Caught in the middle

Can a person change?

Is it possible, truly?

Some people will just die unhappy.

Some people will just stay inside their misery.

The real question is: "Will I be one of those?"

.

.

What a great question.