The love note

As Lucas got home, the lights were out. He thought Ann was asleep so he went to the bedroom, but there was only the cat on top of the bed, her clothes weren´t in the closet anymore and her perfume was gone also. Disappointed, but not surprised, Lucas walked to the kitchen and found the note. He didn´t read it immediately, he was afraid somehow of her words, he had always been. He took a beer, walked in circles in the tiny apartment they had just rented and finally read it.

“God knows, maybe something weird happened to me back then. But if it is so, how am I supposed to figure it out? You told me I looked strange when I was about to kiss you, what did you mean by it? You didn´t know me then, I used to party every night and drink till I got to an unknown place with unknown faces.

I liked to introduce myself as a different character every time, making friends was not of my interest; I was just trying to annihilate myself. But you have always been quiet, and responsible, as though your life followed an easy path and as if any complications were only due to mental weakness.

But things are not so simple, or maybe they are, but to my eyes they have always come as a net of complex relations. Volition is part of all the things we do and stop doing, but it isn´t the only thing behind deeds, we are weak creatures and get easily hurt without knowing it. There is will and unconsciousness and awareness of both of them. Believing in mere volition might be an inspiration, but it´s not something I can believe in.

I didn´t want to be treated as a crazy girl by every guy in every party, still it was the only thing I considered myself good at, playing the fool, drinking till I wasn´t myself anymore. I always met loneliness afterwards, dealing with myself was the most terrible part. But you sure don´t know any of this.

I´ve woken up in many different places, at the door of the subway, outside bars I´ve never been to when sober, unknown sofas of strangers¢ houses…none of it meant a thing. There was only one thing I could enjoy: walking early in the morning in the empty streets, the fresh air coming into my lungs, guided by my feet to somewhere nice. I always got to the lake, always the lake with the ducks and early runners. I could party all night just for that moment.

And then you tell me something weird happened to me back then. I reckon you´re not talking about this, you didn´t know it but I´m sure it makes no difference to your judgment. I´m just trying to make myself some time to think about it all. How can I know what happened to me, if I can´t remember most of the things that I´ve done? Maybe nothing went wrong back then, and it´s just me making strange faces when I´m about to kiss you. Maybe for the first time in my life there is no complex explanation for my reaction, maybe not.

But now I wonder, and as time goes by the question gets bigger and bigger, did something go wrong one of those days? And if it didn´t, how am I supposed to get back to my serene state? And if it did, but I can´t remember, how am I supposed to get normal as before you began to make me think all this things?

Only you can´t see you made me a useless question, you tried to prove a useless point and you contradicted your own principles. You are looking for an answer far beyond clarity and simplicity, and mere volition won´t give you an answer. You´re not trying to help me, if you would you would try to make me feel peaceful. You were no better than me for not wasting yourself every week, actually I feel you a step behind me, observing every single thing I do with amazement. I´ve got no explanations for most of my behaviors, you ought to know that.

I might come back or not, you have stopped worrying about me, you have started to think about yourself again. I took it before, I know, but this is how far I can get. If you love me, don´t make an object out of me, just love me.”

There was no signature, Lucas had read it all sitting at the edge of the window, breathing heavily, as thought the air was too thick. There was nothing to do, not tonight, not tomorrow. He wasn´t thinking at all, there was nothing to think about, but loneliness.