When I unpacked my suitcase

Only today I managed to unpack my suitcase. I would look at it and be afraid to open it, fearful of what I would find there, terrified of having to unravel myself.

But with a sad expression, I carefully opened it. Where to start? I began to take out each item.

A pair of sweat shorts that reminded me of the shower I never took, a pretty shirt, a dirty pair of pants! I folded each piece delicately, folding each one into me.

I took out a pill of Engov, and with it, all my hangovers and also all my healings were squeezed out, the days I lived in madness. A skirt that made you look at me with desire, a tear, a plot.

That costume of feelings expressing themselves and me unraveling...

On my way back, I brought the suitcase with me, and my old guitar. I took it out of its case and harmonized the costume.

All the things replayed at that moment, the old and the new time piercing me... And I was divided between attending to the whim of human vanity and indulging my own will to follow my heart.

I thought it was right to give reason to reason; I thought I should act quickly and flee, be rational. Especially with these futuristic abilities of mine and my 'power' of foretelling. Oh, how wrong I could have been if I thought that one sentence revealed the entire character of a person!

If I believed that this poorly said sentence referred to a lack of importance towards what I felt, causing me to distance myself and lose hope in you.

After seeing you regretful, I regretted being reckless, but I judged myself correct and backed up by what I had been told earlier. Time passed, and I couldn’t go back, but I spent all this time asking myself whether I had done the right thing since the memories were always recurring, the desires of your unpredictability, and the memories of our late-night conversations.

I do not curse the subsequent events; they were perhaps the most important for me to grow and understand everything I am saying now, but I regret only learning this now.

Although it no longer makes sense, I say that my suitcase is empty, waiting for a destination and for some new clothes, since what attracts me the most is not knowing where to go, and I couldn’t go without telling you what I’m saying now.

What happened was a halfway point; how can I continue on the road if I stopped at the fork?

Don’t cling to the melancholic question at the beginning of the text, as that was how I felt when we started.

Do not distort my writings, nor subjugate what I express from within me, "you are a good person, that I consider..."