I open my eyes, and you're gone.

I close my eyes; you’re here. I open my eyes; you’re gone. The secret lies in the magic power of the mind; the capability to recollect precise memories in the exact moment that they happened, just by closing my eyes and letting go of reality. I walk through the rooms that lead to you. The you I knew, of course, not the you I had the displeasure of discovering later.

I am in a bedroom now; it’s dark all around. I’m lying down on a bed with brown sheets and a big, tall mirror on my left. I can’t see much, though the lights coming in from a beautiful starry night are enough to see your face. You’re right beside me. I’m safe. Now I can sleep.

I make my way into another room, so I can see your face in the light of day. We’re walking on a long, long path. The ocean is on our left. I hear the waves crashing on the shore, the old familiar scent of salt and sand floating in the air, working its magic on a late afternoon. We’re walking, hand in hand. You tell me about your dreams. I hear you and take your words in. “Two years of sacrifice is all it will take. Then I can live the way I’ve been meaning to live. Just two more years”. Two years, maybe five. Or all eternity. How does it matter? We’ll still be here, together, fighting the world, if necessary, but still together.

Now I’m in a room with lots of paintings. God knows I have two of the things I love the most next me: art and you. I feel excited like a little girl on her first day of school. Picasso and Dali stare at me with curious eyes, trying to figure out what I’m writing on my note pad. You’re there. You’re like art to me. So pleasing to the eye, though I have to take one step further to truly enjoy its blessings. You have to fuse with it, embrace it, make it part of you. And that’s what I do with you. I let you in. I let you have me.  You hold me close to you, while I fall prey of the undeniable charm of a little girl standing tall in the bucolic scenery of an old French farm. From across the wall, she can read my thoughts. I chose her. She was the one. Suddenly we’re out of the paintings room…Where are we? Gardens, ancient buildings, and people walking all around. I start taking pictures, and then you get a hold of the camera. You take one picture, two pictures, a thousand pictures. What happened to those pictures? I can’t recall.

It’s late in the evening, but not quite dusk yet. I am not sure where we are. I see cliffs looking down where the waves soar high and strong. I smell the scent of the ocean, once again, but mostly I smell you, you are so close to me. It’s cold, but you lend me your jacket. I am safe again. The sun goes down before our eyes, but the sky is cloudy and all we can see is just its light slowly vanishing in the mist.

I’m walking towards another room now. It’s definitely night in here. We are climbing stair, after stair, after stair. We are on top of the world now, or at least that’s what it feels like. We’re looking down on the ocean; there is some kind of shore at the bottom of the building, but could it really be? Or maybe, it’s my mind playing tricks on me. Every time I remember something fondly, I see the ocean, because the ocean is what I am, where I come from, what I grew up with. Foolish thoughts we entertain. Vegas. Promises. I thought you were crazy, but your madness didn’t scare me. It should have.

I’m rewinding now. All the way to the first time I saw your face. Rewind. “Hi”. I walk towards you and I let you hold me, and I kiss you. You are a stranger to me, but you feel so familiar it’s like I’ve known you all my life. Your touch, your voice, the way you breathe, your laughter. I’m learning to love you in the very first minute I meet you. I get into your car with my heart jumping just like when I was 15. Every word you say is right, every step you take is right. I can smell coffee now. Then we drive wherever your car takes us. Will it be Mexico? Ah! We crack jokes about it.

I can’t rewind any further. That is one of the last rooms I am left to explore. There are a thousand narrower rooms I could visit, but I refuse to. This is enough. I open my eyes, and you’re gone. Everything of you is gone. What is left of you in reality is not worth pursuing. You have settled to be half the man you could be to me and you expect me to get along with that.

 I thought of this comparison the other day, at work, in between insurance calls (Ah!). You put no effort and no commitment in our relationship, not even a bit. To you it was like having a job, but considering just showing up the only effort you had to make. You showed up, but did nothing else. Looked around to see who needed help, but decided not to offer it. After all, just the simple fact you were there AT the job premises should have been enough to keep the job. Then you got fired, but didn’t really care to get your job back. You don’t need it. You are better than that. You can find yourself a thousand better jobs where you don’t have to worry about doing anything more than showing up.  Well, good for you pal. I opened my eyes. And you’re gone.