A very productive Sunday

 We are still very far from each other. The initiative is there, but it's not real. You say you're less sure than other times (good to know, now, that you weren't that sure before) about breaking up being the right choice, but you don't give me alternatives. You don't give me valid reasons. And I don't know if I have the strength to carry on trying given the past experiences. I breathe once or twice strongly and I do my best to remember why I want to have a life with you. It was easy to see it with the others, professional routes were taking us to different paths but things and a culture in common kept us together. We don't have that but we talked about having a professional project together. The idea of making an NGO with you sounded like a dream, specially with the disenchanment of the masters. But it doesn't seem like something you actually want to do, since you haven't done anything about it. And the masters and the cinema completely drained my energy and I promised myself that the moment I finish the semester I would join and work alongside with whatever you had created by that time. But you haven't done anything in all these months, how do you expect me to trust you if the pillar that is supposed to support our life hasn't even begun to be planned? We could apply this question to almost any aspect of this weird and dysfunctional common life we have created. I opened to you since the moment you let me and I vomited to you all the emotional charge I was carrying for months and I know it wasn't right. But there were tremendously important stuff for a relationship that you didn't tell for months. You should have told me a lot of things a lot before. And now all you say it's reduced to a lie because I can't know when you will surprise me again with some exclusive news you should have told me almost a year ago.

You have been lying to me since we met. Sometimes by omission, sometimes openly, but you never told me the whole truth. Our relationship is based on you telling me half-truths despite the fact that I only asked honesty from you from the first moment, and me forgiving you because by the time I found out about the first lie I was already so in love with you that the idea of being in Croatia without being able to talk to you, touch you or kiss you simply terrified me. On the other hand, I know we could be more that this fear. I know the intention is there, but I'm not sure we have enough will and resources. I love you like I have never loved anyone before, I have seen you grow as a person and a partner without losing your essence, but there's too much at risk. And I took off the ring. I read myself and remember all the bad, I read about attachments and the resources to build a healthy relationship and I trust there is still hope, but not too much. Because, after all, all I can think about is you flirting with (or rather being flirted by) all the girls on the exchange, getting drunk, having sex with someone at the hotel, we know you have experience on that. And everything goes to shit again.

It's Sunday and the body knows it

 Last night I was not sleepy. Today I am not sleepy. I woke up at 7:30 like I used to do when we were in Daruvar, after only five or six hours of rest. I remembered the day we went for a walk, it was still the first month, you wanted to go to Lidl and you didn't want me to go with you. "Maybe I want to call some friends". Honestly, I thought you were the most social guy in the world, I was jealous of it, of the thought of having friends that actually keep in contact with you several times a week, I thought you must've been really special if you had friends like that. I never considered the concept as an eufemism. It never crossed my mind that friend could mean girlfriend, specially given that, seeing my sadness for not letting me go with you, you kissed me on the spot before leaving.

I have always tended to think the best of people, that they are true, they are good, they don't hide on purpose because that's what I want people to think of me. Of course I knew you weren't telling me the truth (I'm not that naive) but I didn't think you were lying to me. But you lied so much that, after all this time, now I can't believe anything you say. And it hurts because I really want to. I want to build something beautiful with you, but the foundations have never been strong enough. Maybe we could, with a lot of effort, work, time and money we don't have.

It was stupid and reckless since the first moment. You coming to my house as a friend, without a return ticket, putting my world upside down. And me letting you in, opening completely to you without receiving anything in return beyond some sex. It's raining today. I can't concentrate. I have to start doing things. But I just want to go back to bed and lie down. I want to hurt myself a bit, just enough to feel something different from this emptiness. I'm gonna clean instead.

I had pasta and I didn't finish it

 Sebas wanted me to watch this film we laughed about for years. I remember when it came out, six years ago, when it was still weird if a non-Ghibli anime film arrived to the cinema. "I want to eat your pancreas" and we just couldn't believe that was the real title. Critics were nice but just the name was so stupid we couldn't go. He watched and said to me today it's probably one of his top 10 films (he didn't specify if general films or anime), that he had only cried more with Coco. That's worth watching, then, and there I went, downloaded it and put it. I don't like anime anymore, it only has four or five types of stories repeating themselves over and over. This one, after all, was another slice of life. With an interesting plot-twist, yes, but nothing more. I was there crying, of course, when you replied to my text. Almost at the same time the girl who is gonna die (spoiler alert) was giving a speech about what living meant to her. Connection. Interaction with people. A lot of very nice drawings of people loving eachother. And there I was, pretending I was not falling apart while replying to you. Debating about answering to the good night. Thinking what to do next, the subtitles desyncronized, it lost a bit of the magic but I wasn't liking it that much anyway. I'm becoming a potato little by little, hiding in the ground, not even wanting to cry anymore, wondering if you will ever ask about the cold I was having but probably you won't even remember so I hide a bit more. I don't want to cry, I don't want to make a project plan, I want a bit of sun and a coffee place open after five and I want you to ask about my cold and to bring me some stupid souvenir that reminded you of me. But I can't expect you to love me like that. I don't. But it is what I need. After all we will all die from pancreas stuff and I don't want to eat your pancreas, eugh, I don't want your soul to live inside me but deep down a little piece is already with me.

English below

 Es que no falla. Lucía está triste, Lucía escribe. En este caso es más necesario que otras en las que solo vengo a quejarme, intento dejar clara mi postura, hacer una declaración de intenciones, de principios (y si no te gustan, no tengo otros, como Marx...) y hacer en la medida de lo posible un juramento católico, apostólico y romano de mantenerme fiel a lo que aquí diga, que por otro lado viene a ser de lo más sencillo: quiero dejarte. Es una jodienda, si yo lo sé, estamos perdidamente, no, asquerosamente enamorados el uno del otro, nunca las hormonas me habían durado tanto de forma tan constante, es verte y que el cerebro se me derrita. Y precisamente por eso necesito escribirlo, recordarme de alguna forma que no todo es eso (porque no lo es) y cuando no estás conmigo me acuerdo de por qué no deberíamos estar juntos. 

Voy a empezar por lo más sencillo: dices que una relación a distancia no funcionaría y yo te doy la razón. Te la doy tanto que me parece extrapolable a una relación sin distancia. Quiero decir, estoy bastante convencida de que para que una relación normal funcione también debería funcionar a distancia, al menos durante un cierto período de tiempo. Y está claro que nosotros no funcionamos y, seamos realistas, no sabemos cuánto va a durar este ir y venir ni si en algún momento después de esta semana tendrás que volver a irte y yo no quiero estar así mucho más tiempo.

No tenemos nada en común. Y esto ha sido así desde que nos conocimos, el problema es que al principio tampoco importaba tanto, la prioridad no era conocerse a fondo, no fuera a ser que nos pillásemos (ejem, ejem...). Pero ahora estamos aquí, un año y pico después y yo no sé qué hacer contigo en el sentido más literal de la palabra. No sé de qué hablar, no sé qué música poner, no sé qué película enseñarte, no sé qué libro regalarte. Nuestros temas de conversación se reducen al Erasmus y a las comparaciones entre países y me aburro. Tu falta de iniciativa me agota y me molesta terriblemente que estés dispuesto a salir y a socializar como si no hubiera un mañana cuando estás por ahí y conmigo no quieras hacer nada más que salir a dar un paseo.

No consigo entender el por qué de tus acciones. Me he pasado la última semana leyendo artículos sobre neurodiversidad en un intento desesperado de entenderte, pero simplemente no te encuentro en las definiciones y no sé qué puedo aplicar a tú siendo tú y qué es parte de esa cultura báltica a la que no consigo encontrarle sentido. 

Eres un manipulador de órdago. Lo volviste a hacer en Jerez, llorando y diciendo que tú también te merecías algo de amor. Oh, cómo sabes cómo pierdo los papeles cuando lloras. Cómo se me va todo el razonamiento a la mierda cada vez que siento que te puedo estar haciendo daño de verdad. Y lo sabes y lo usas en mi contra, confío en que no eres totalmente consciente de ello pero eso no impide que esté mal.

Estoy harta de sentirme insegura a tu lado. Y soy plenamente consciente de que esto no es culpa tuya, pero tampoco me había pasado antes. Mi autoestima nunca ha estado para tirar cohetes pero ahora mismo me soplan y me caigo y es, inevitablemente, culpa tuya. Porque yo te dejé tratarme así de mal en pos de un futuro imposible y dijiste que me tratarías mejor si pudieras pero el daño ya está hecho, lo que estaría bien es que me trataras bien ahora y tampoco lo haces. Decirme que me echas de menos cuando te amenazo no es tratarme bien, es puro miedo.

¿Pero miedo a qué, exactamente?¿Qué te estoy dando que tienes tanto miedo a perderme? No soy tan especial, nunca lo he sido, siempre he sido una intensa y una llorona pero poco más. No entiendo por qué no me dejas seguir con mi vida después de este parón imprevisto, por qué no vuelves a tus youth exchanges completando la pokedex cuando es claramente lo que te hace feliz, no yo. Usa tus nuevos conocimientos sabiamente y deja que esté sola un tiempo prudencial, que bien me hace falta también. Volveré a mis playlists de cortar, a Manel, Mika, La Oreja de Van Gogh, Keane, los Red Hot y Dire Straits, a ver Amélie, Enredados y Las Chicas Gilmore (#TeamJess) por millonésima vez y se nos terminará pasando, como todo.

(Translated with Deepl because I'm lazy)

It doesn't fail. Lucía is sad, Lucía writes. In this case it's more necessary than others in which I only come to complain, I'm trying to make my position clear, to make a declaration of intentions, of principles (and if you don't like them, I have no others, like Marx...) and to make as far as possible a catholic, apostolic and roman oath to remain faithful to what I say here, which on the other hand comes to be as simple as possible: I want to leave you. It's a fuck-up, I know, we're madly... no, disgustingly in love with each other, my hormones have never lasted so long in such a constant way, it's seeing you and my brain melts. And that's precisely why I need to write it down, to remind me somehow that it's not all that (because it's not) and when you're not with me I remember why we shouldn't be together.

I'll start with the simplest thing: you say that a long-distance relationship wouldn't work and I agree with you. I agree with you so much that I think it can be extrapolated to a non-distance relationship. I mean, I am quite convinced that for a normal relationship to work, it should also work at a distance, at least for a certain period of time. And it's clear that we don't work and, let's face it, we don't know how long this back and forth is going to last or if at some point after this week you'll have to leave again and I don't want to be like this for much longer.

We have nothing in common. And this has been the case since we met, the problem is that at the beginning it didn't matter so much either, the priority wasn't to get to know each other in depth, lest we get a thing for eachother (ahem, ahem...). But now here we are, a year and a bit later and I don't know what to do with you in the most literal sense of the word. I don't know what to talk about, I don't know what music to play, I don't know what movie to show you, I don't know what book to give you. Our topics of conversation are reduced to Erasmus and comparisons between countries and I get bored. Your lack of initiative wears me out and it annoys me terribly that you're willing to go out and socialise like there's no tomorrow when you're out and about and with me you don't want to do anything more than go for a walk.

I can't understand why you do what you do. I have spent the last week reading articles on neurodiversity in a desperate attempt to understand you, but I just can't find you in the definitions and I don't know what I can apply to you being you and what is part of this Baltic culture that I can't make sense of.

You are a manipulator of the highest order. You did it again in Jerez, crying and saying that you too deserved some love. Oh, how you know how I lose my temper when you cry. How all my reasoning goes to shit every time I feel I might be really hurting you. And you know it and you use it against me, I trust you're not fully aware of it but that doesn't stop it from being wrong.

I'm sick of feeling insecure around you. And I am fully aware that this is not your fault, but it hasn't happened to me before either. My self-esteem has never been in a state to throw rockets but right now someone can blow on me and I will fall down and that's actually, inevitably, your fault. Because I let you treat me this badly in pursuit of an impossible future and you said you'd treat me better if you could but the damage has already been done, what would be nice is if you treated me well now and you're not doing that either. Telling me that you miss me when I threaten you is not treating me well, it's pure fear.

But fear of what, exactly? what am I giving you that you're so afraid of losing me? I'm not that special, I never have been, I've always been intense and a crybaby but little more. I don't understand why you won't let me get on with my life after this unplanned hiatus, why you won't go back to your youth exchanges completing the pokedex when it's clearly what makes you happy, not me. Use your new knowledge wisely and let me be on my own for a while, which I need too. I'll go back to my break-up playlists, to Manel, Mika, La Oreja de Van Gogh, Keane, the Red Hot and Dire Straits, watch Amélie, Tangled and Gilmore Girls (#TeamJess) for the millionth time and it'll wear off, like everything else.

I'm sick of...

 Estoy harta de tener que seguir conociéndote, de sentir que he pasado estos últimos meses junto a un completo extraño. ¿Cuentan a estas alturas las mentiras por omisión? I said the other day that I am missing you in a very mature way and I am, but it's more than that. It's me talking to him for an hour and not being able to talk to you for ten minutes straight. It's me not knowing what to tell you, and you not knowing what to tell me. It's us boring each other to death. Because you pretend to be interested and I try to be but we're not. The only thing in common that we have is the life we were trying to build together and that's taken away. And I just can't wait to see you but if I don't it's gonna be okay. This studio was never yours, it was never ours. It was just mine with sparkles of your presence, like a traveller passing by. I don't miss you. Echo de menos alguien con quien hablar, con quien hacer el amor, con quien compartir la comida porque no sé cocinar para uno. Pero no echo de menos tus conversaciones, tus ideas, mi absoluta inseguridad a tu alrededor. Me siento mejor ahora, siendo ajena a todo, sabiendo que puedes ponerme los cuernos cualquier noche, me da igual. Me da igual si hablas con ellas, si les dices baby por la noche o si les mandas fotos eróticas, me da igual. Tenía la intención de intentarlo pero teniendo en cuenta el éxito de la última vez creo que me puedo quedar con mis fotos. O del simple "what are you wearing?". I'm just not in the mood anymore. It is actually quite sad, quite naive. I really thought you could teach me something new, but you are so lost in yourself that you will never see anything beyond your nose. The thing that you like about me the most is the effort that I put in making you fall in love with me? In fucking seducing you? You have no idea, and after all this time you just don't get it. I didn't make you fall in love with me, you fell in love with me because I was in love with you and I was giving you all my attention, because I just wanted to know you. And I deserve more than that. And you deserve to love someone for who they are, not the attention they pay to you, like the ones you've told me about. You know, deep down, why it bothers me so much that you talk about them? It took you so little time, just hours even to feel something for them, to love them. How can you expect me to not compare when there's this group of people that you fell for in a matter of days whilst it took you over a month to just start noticing me?¿Cómo pretendes que me de igual? Y ahora otro campamento con muchachas guapas de Europa del Este a tu disposición. Simplemente estoy un poco harta de esperar a que me pongas los cuernos.

Little spring of inspiration

 I think we should get married. I don't know if I'm totally convinced by the idea behind it, the possession behind the whole thing, but I can't help it, I like the idea of being married to you. I have never felt that with anyone else, of course I have talked for hours about how my dream wedding would be, but I never considered it a real posibility. And I know for now it's not either, we don't have money and the UK hates us, but we have been apart for almost two weeks now and I feel weird. I miss you tons, I miss watching series in the night and sleep with you and walk around the center the days when I don't have to work, but I am not particularly sad like I was the other times. I am missing you in a very healthy way and I am very proud of myself for that. I can't wait to see you in Sevilla and enjoy the real spring and eat outside everyday but in the meantime I don't dwell on my misery, I have too many things to do (she said, writing this instead of doing the marketing plan).

Siete horas, te voy a volver a ver

 En siete horas estarás aquí. Como la canción de Bebe. Siete horas corriendo por la ciudad. Siete horas y muchas más pensando en qué te voy a decir, en qué va a pasar, en los besos que te quiero dar. Siete horas para disfrutar de la soledad antes de que inundes mi universo de nuevo; esta vez, definitivamente, sin billete de vuelta. Y me molesta un poco, ¿sabes?, haber tenido que andar detrás de ti durante todos estos meses y, sobre todo, estas últimas semanas. Me doy coraje, tenía superadas estas cosas, había dejado de pensar con los ovarios y creía que mis estándares estaban bastante más altos. A la altura de alguien que me preparara el desayuno de vez en cuando, que sintiera el peso de la responsabilidad afectiva, que no dudara al decirme que me quiere. Pero estás tú después de más de treinta horas de viaje cruzándote Europa por mí (aunque no te lo haya pedido) y no soy capaz de ver que igual es suficiente. Quizás porque siempre fui una persona que se regocija en los pequeños detalles, en el día a día, en el "te he comprado un paquete de galletas porque me acordé de ti". Las grandilocuencias, la atención, los grandes estallidos de amor nunca fueron santo de mi devoción. Y tú nunca has sido capaz de verlo. Y yo directamente no sé cómo quererte.

It's true and I was angry (in that order)

 Me duele la barriga desde que te fuiste. Somatizo con el estómago, siempre lo he hecho. Hoy tenía la sensación de que me había bajado la regla de nuevo por culpa de los retortijones. No sé qué hacer, de verdad que no lo sé. ¿Estábamos de verdad haciendo algo bien simplemente porque nos dolía la idea de no estar juntos? También duele estar así. Esperando. Intentando entender. Haciendo listas de mierda.

I'm here and you are not. The flat doesn't feel like mine but it definitely doesn't feel like yours. Like ours. You keep saying you will come but at this point is not a matter of believing but facts: you are not here when you should have been. And I keep telling myself that you will be extraordinary once you learn to care for other people's feelings, but I don't think I deserve to be the test field for so many months. I keep telling myself you have improved but actually I don't see how beyond the fact that you love me and that's not an improvement. You always say that you don't want to hurt me, but you never said that you want to make me happy. You care for me but you don't know how. And I pretend you don't feel anything so I can put all the blame on you just because I have more experience and I know how to see the red flags, and I know that's not right either. I feel small and I feel big. I feel bad because I constantly think I am making the universe turn around me and it shouldn't, but at the same time I am so insignificant. I could stay in this tiny studio for the rest of the year and no one would notice. I still don't understand why you are doing this. I have never seen a love like this. So small and yet so capable of destroying everything. You say you ended up loving me like it's not weird that you wanted to come to my home without feeling almost anything for me, not to mention the stupid fact of me saying yes. Yes, please, come to my house, let me introduce my family, this is Juhan, we are not a thing but he's staying in the guest room and he doesn't have a return ticket. But he doesn't want to be with me. I am just so blind I would do whatever he wants me to do at this point. But now he wants, though he's never coming with me to Leeds, that would be insane. Nothing changes, maybe we hold hands a bit more, out of my insecurity I have to ask him if we are something real because I can't believe what is happening. Who would? But I felt so happy, so touched by god's hand because somehow you wanted to create something beautiful with me. But it wasn't that, was it? You were just afraid of losing me. It was so comfortable to have the attention and the food and the sex and well, I am not the prettiest girl in the world but I am not so bad either. I suppose you decided you could settle for that.

Meh

 He had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. Depending on the light they could turn grey, green or blue, but blue (the original) was always my favourite. He had a very ugly nose that bothered me a lot when we kissed, but I usually didn't care. He had a smile that could calm me down just by watching it, the warmest smile and funniest laugh in the world. And he cried. Quite a lot. The first time I saw him crying we were in my house, upstairs laying on the futón. I don't even remember why he was crying, something related with his father I think, but my natural instinct was to dry his tears and he didn't let me. He didn't let me touch him. I didn't understand. The last time I saw him crying was three years ago, the last time I actually saw him. That time the depression was clear, his necesity to talk everything out. I let him speak and I asked him if I could hug him. He said yes. I wanted to kiss him but I didn't dare to ask, I knew the answer.

She's been living in her white bread world

 What do I do when there's nothing more to be done? What do I say when there's nothing else to say? All of the sudden, nothing relies on me no more. I don't know what to do now, concerning you, concerning my parents, concerning myself... You bore me. Your lack of interest, your lack of plans, your sense of humour... you bore me to death and by now I don't know if it's you or the whole world that bores me. I don't want to lose you and I know it's not because I'm just comfortable with you because I am definitely not but I don't know if I can love you that much anymore. How can I create a bond with you when you are not here? How are we suppose to see a future together if I am not able to see a present? Wouldn't it have been better that time would have consumed us? How were we able to see each other all those months ago that now I just remember glimpses of the feeling? I miss the idea of you, what you meant to me, the way out of my sad life that you were then. A minor problem to hide the important one, but when did you take its place? When did you stop being a relieve and start being the problem? It was never the plan, I didn't want to go again to the Harry Potter studios, you were not supposed to be here, in my life, now. I shouldn't be planning this with you. Do you even want to come? Too many doubts, too many insecurities, too many unanswered questions. I just want to go and find myself a pretty british person (I have to admit, I'm going for the full university english guy and I have zero regrets) who's rich and likes graphic adventures, I don't think I'm asking that much.

Cuando tú no estás las mañanas se tiñen de canciones tristes

 Me gustaría decirte muchas cosas, pero no tengo demasiado claro que deba hacerlo. Me gustaría decirte que no sabes lo que es el amor. Conoces el enamoramiento, bien por ti, conoces a la perfección esas primeras semanas de sexo desenfrenado, hormonas y purpurina por todas partes, pero no sabes lo que viene después. El ver detrás de la máscara, atisbar los entresijos entre bastidores de la otra persona, llegar a conocer todo lo bueno y también todo lo malo y pese a ello elegirla cada día porque, después de todo, nadie es perfecto. No sabes lo que es tener una familia política y lo poco probable que es que te vaya a gustar esa familia pero aguantarla igualmente porque merece la pena. No tienes ni idea de lo que es tener un proyecto de vida con alguien, mirar al futuro juntos y que el miedo, el vértigo, la ilusión, la emoción se sientan a la vez. Y lo poco que sirven afirmaciones como "sé que todo saldrá bien". Se trabaja, se habla, de buenas intenciones está el mundo lleno y para que una relación funcione tiene que haber algo más que eso. Cosas en común, compatibilidad, objetivos similares, formas de ver la vida parecidas. No hay que ser un calco pero estamos tan lejos que ni nos acercamos al mínimo. El cine, la música, la comida, los videojuegos, las formas de entretenernos, la política, los amigos... no tenemos nada en común. 

Me gustaría decirte que no sé qué eres para mí. He tenido tres grandes amores en mi vida y de los tres me di cuenta en momentos distintos de la relación, pero una vez fui consciente no hubo ninguna duda después. Jesús tuvo que romper conmigo para que me diera cuenta, pero también es cierto que éramos muy jóvenes y aquello estaba abocado al fracaso. Cuando Julio apareció en mi vida de una forma más o menos estabilizada (después de todo estábamos en la misma clase pero hasta seis meses después no empezamos a hablar) me deslumbró con su inteligencia y lo convertí en mi objetivo, a él sí podía verle a kilómetros que necesitaba ser salvado aunque no sabía de qué. Pero yo estaba saliendo con otro chico a la vez y la decencia me decía que aquello no podía ser. A la decencia le dieron por saco a los dos meses y el día de nuestra primera cita supe que sería extraordinario (y lo fue, para bien y para mal). Y con Miguel necesité una tarde de abril en Londres bajo la lluvia. Y si aún tenía dudas después de aquel primer día, a la semana ya no había ninguna. Lo querría para toda la eternidad. Y él me querría a mí. Su eternidad resultó ser un poco más corta que la mía, pero no se puede tener todo en esta vida. No, Sebas no es un gran amor, nunca lo fue y también lo supe desde el primer momento y me odié durante meses y años por ello. Pensaba que quizás no hacía falta escuchar el Halellujah cada vez que lo veía para tener algo especial, y fue cierto durante un tiempo, pero es triste y erróneo no buscar lo extraordinario, conformarse con la comodidad de lo seguro, lo conocido, lo fácil en pos de no sufrir más. ¿Y dónde entras tú? De verdad, no creo que seas consciente jamás de lo que supuso para mí conocerte. Porque claramente fue algo físico pero lo supe antes siquiera de decirte hola aquella tarde mientras comías burek. Nunca en mi vida había sentido nada tan intenso tan rápido por alguien y me asusté, por supuesto, lo negué, lo escondí, pero con cada noche que pasábamos juntos se hacía más evidente. El problema fue que me enamoré de alguien a quien no conocía, me enamoré de la versión que quisiste darme porque estaba dispuesta a enamorarme de lo poco que quisieras ofrecerme porque el tiempo se acababa y sabía que no volvería a verte. Serías el gran amor que nunca pudo ser, la historia que contar a mis nietos, la persona a la que recordar cada enero cuando fuera el aniversario del voluntariado en Croacia. Ahora, simplemente, dudo. Estás siendo, ¿cómo vas a ser el gran amor que no pudo ser si sigues aquí?¿Acaso estoy enamorada de la persona que eres realmente, con sus más y sus menos? Fuiste extraordinario desde el primer momento, por eso te busqué y te perseguí pero ahora, por un lado, no puedo evitar pensar que gran parte de lo que sentí en un principio es una farsa y, por otro, claramente yo no fui extraordinaria para ti, no lo fui entonces y no sé si lo soy ahora y creo que nos merecemos algo mejor el uno del otro. Y ya no sé qué más escribir, se me ha secado el cerebro para el resto del mes.