What I can't tell you

I don’t want you to know that I’m lying awake again just to write this down hoping that someone, someday, will find it and truly understand. Someone better than me. Someone better than the world that surrounds me laughing at my face for recording the chronicles of what I feel. This world is barely enough for anything beyond their screens. They would not be able to handle properly anything that resembles a book. I would call it a Bible, but the exaggeration would scare their generation away. It is not their fault though. That kind of love is like feeling the sun on both sides of your face and the world that surrounds them keeps on demanding to turn the other cheek far more often.

I don’t want you to know that love is too weak a word for the way I feel. I blame my illustrated version of it that derives from a rather innocent childhood. So, in order to keep on acquitting myself, I don’t want you to know that I blame you for showing me the world beyond this one.

I don’t want you to know that you reminded me how it is to make all your wishes come true upon wet lips. I don’t want you to know that although I perform all my everyday tasks with much success, only when you satisfy my mind with the last kiss of the day, I know I have reached my high score again. I don’t want you to know I did not even know how to collect points before you came along. For life only matters when you are good at something.

I don’t want you to know that the most dangerous harmful person for a man is the man himself when he is not. I don’t want you to know that you taught me how to get rid of this nuisance such cliches caused to my head by assuring me that being myself is good enough. I don’t want you to know I was this harmful person without you.

I don’t want you to know that I do not dream anymore. Those stargazers and poets always claimed that the greatest fantasy someone can live is the reality. I don’t want you to know that when I hear your keys at the door, me, the visionary seer not only sees something but also does something. I don’t want you to know that in the eyes of every person I encounter I long to see this heart derived determination, for society is slowly and painstakingly shaping us into puppets in the brink of a terrible adult understanding. I don’t want you to know that I have come in terms with how a cruel and cold place the world can be but you forced me to face everything and recover. I don’t want you to know that during this healing process I discovered how charming the bitterness of the truth can be. I don’t want you to know that I tasted the bitterness with much pleasure since I wanted to last as much as your truth. I don’t want you to know that every day that goes by with your smile before my face I am confirmed that it will. I don’t want you to know that this sweetness of denying the truth is the reason for all the plights in the world.

I don’t want you to know that time for you and I have never been more selfish. It takes too much of your energy to try to prove him wrong and irrelevant while I want you all for myself. I don’t want you to know that in fact, I am the selfish one, I have found a great, comfortable spot for myself right in the core center of your soul and I mirror me for as long as I desire. I don’t want you to know that the world before you has taught me that such mirrorings are not good for my health. They expose too much. I don’t want you to know that half of the world is sick simply by avoiding them. I don’t want you to know that you have made a ritual in me to think about what is necessary and what is not. I don’t want you to know that I have learned the true meaning of value by weighing the necessity to keep you close by all means. I don’t want you to know that the world has gathered so much rubbish around them by not realizing this meaning of weighing.

I don’t want you to know that reinventing my humor to places that I did know I had inside me, to places that hurt I could not name them taught me the togetherness of laughter. I don’t want you to know that laughing at myself made the first deep cut of a sea of scars a fading memory. I don’t want you to know that I wish more people could sit around our table and laugh with us. I don’t want you to know that not finding the time or the cause to do it has given the world heartaches that they cannot name either. I don’t want you to know that you showed me how is to take the knife deeper into the wound only to feel free at the running blood. I don’t want to know that my fear of hurting liberated along with it.

I don’t want you to know that this fear keeps on creating cold, single beds. I don’t want you to know how hesitant and indecisive by nature was before you. I was certain that I would have to wait for the right time to act, hoping this cuckoo will come out and announce it.

I don’t want you to know that half of the world out there is withering like fresh flowers with old water on a vase waiting for someone to change it, without realizing the change in their true colors, while the rest of the world blames the forgetful hands who didn’t make it on time to refresh their existence. I don’t want you to know how foolishly I thought my colors were vivid enough before you made it clear that time is irrelevant; I’ll have to make it work before it makes me something else. I don’t want you to know how much I want to actually live it with these colors instead of thinking about it.I don’t want you to know that you have ridiculed my notion of heroism. The tall, sturdy men with hoods swords and superpowers have never been more unreal. I don’t want you to know that watching us, I have learned that the only true hero is the one who saves himself. I don’t want you to know that I don’t miss their action-packed stories anymore. I don’t want you to know that you have made me the writer of my own story. I don’t want you to know that the source of sadness in this world is that they are obsessed with the Batmobile to take them away deceived that they cannot build one of their own.

I don’t want you to know that you are the reason. You are all my reasons for jumping onto trains without waiting for the next. I don’t want you to know that I have discovered the worth of every first chance, without praising the second anymore, with every ticket I pay for our travels. I don’t want you to know that most people live abroad, banished from their hearts without having ever taken a train because they squandered all their chances.

I don’t want you to know that I have no song, or poem or prayer, or picture to describe you anymore. I don’t want you to know that one look of yours leaves me without any. I don’t want you to know that this is how I became fluent in silence. I don’t want you to know that weak, incessant, trivial talk comes and goes between people and that is how the will be left with nothing more than screaming for help in unison one day. I don’t want you to know that thanks to you I no longer call myself a survivor in the world. I don’t want you to know that I stand tall and look around to reform it all the ways I can.

I don’t want you to know that at times I surrender in the feeling of doubt that it cannot be altered. I don’t want you to know that every morning I surrender in the feeling of us to change it before it changes us. I don’t want you to know that this very same feeling reassures you every morning that you know all of it.