… as my tears fall in place.
To you, Andrea, the one person I fell in love with.
I fell in love with your eyes, your dark eyes. They sparkle in surprise. They shine steady when you’re happy. They seem darker when you’re lustful. They were full of sorrow when you saw me cry.
I fell in love with your mouth. Because of the kisses you can give, because of the words that can get out of it. Because you know where to bite to keep me still or to make me moan, because your tongue is so gracious with mine.
I fell in love with your hands. So strong, so soft. My skin tingled every time your fingers touched me. My heart skipped a beat when you gripped your hands around my arms.
I fell in love with your arms. They’re not extraordinarily muscular or skinny. They’re perfect, so strong, so perfect. So. Fucking. Perfect. So strong to lift me up and swoon me over as I’d never thought someone would.
I fell in love with your back. I couldn’t keep my hands off it. I could trail kisses forever as I massaged you. I could’ve done it forever.
I fell in love with your brain, your thoughts, the words you never said and the silence you kept. The way you see life and how you don’t mind teaching me things. How amazingly cultured you are, and how easily you admit you’re not nearly as perfect as I envision you.
I fell in love with your laugh. The ironic one, the happy one, the lustful one. The laughter you have when you don’t know how to respond so it sounds a bit like a question. The laughter you make when you find me adorable. The one you have when you’re amused and the other one that’s more of a menace. Yes, I know your different types of laugh.
I fell in love with your sounds. Of the heavy breathing you have when you’re tying me up. Of the sweet sounds you make when I’m being a brat and I’m getting to your nerves but you’re still enjoying it. Of the victory chuckle you make when I’m defeated. Of the “mmm?!” sound you make when you know I can’t fight your argument. The way you say hello, because it sounds open and questionable. Because we didn’t say “goodbye” the night before.
I can keep going. But this isn’t what I need. You can’t fall in love twice with someone now, can you?
Let me balance this.
I hate it when you’re sad. Hate it because I know there’s nothing I can do. Because you don’t let me do anything to make you happy.
I hate you’re so fucking closed behind three Chinese Great Walls and you couldn’t let me in. You know it, but I don’t think you realised how much that hurt me. You don’t let me in and it’s so frustrating, you need to let someone in…
I hate that you’re so dismissive of how I feel about this. I know for you it must look like a stupid girlish drama, but it’s my heart we’re talking about here.
I hate you promise things that you never do. Like the time you said “come to Bergamo on my birthday and we can have dinner with my parents” and then you changed the plan completely. Like when you said “yeah have your BIRTHDAY DINNER in this X restaurant” and then you never came. Like when you said “I’m available these X days” but when I can’t make it on the day you want it’s all wrong. Like when you promised you’d take me to the beach and that never happened.
I hate it that you think I don’t know what’s going on. That you think I didn’t notice you parking the car behind so no one would see me there, or how you go nuts over me remotely being on the same place as your younger brother. What do you think I could do, dammit?! I know how to behave around people, you genius.
I hate that I went overboard telling you I’m hiper-sensitive for you to completely fail at putting yourself in my shoes and imagine how it’s like to feel like you’re ashamed of me and that’s why you keep this weird thing so hidden it’s like 007 in here. Hate the fact you use it as a weapon against me.
I hate how you say you hate yourself for making me cry but keep acting like a selfish, self-centered jerk with a fixation on threesomes I would’ve envisioned in taking into it if you’d only given me time to comprehend it. Instead you managed to completely turn me into a monogamous heterosexual who wants nothing more on the matter.
I hate it when you threaten me to never see me again or not go to a TNG if I don’t stop my bratty behaviour. You have no idea how much it hurts that you’re basically using my feelings against myself. That’s you guilt-tripping me for being myself and pushing all your buttons because I see how good and amazing you are at your core and I just want the best for you.
I hate that the more I try to fix this, the more it goes to hell.
Here is the thing.
This isn’t an infatuation. My NRE went to hell the first time you made me cry. My birthday, remember? The one you auto-invited yourself when I was deciding on the restaurant and failed to show up even though you could have made it for one drink after coming back from London if you’d wanted to? But that wasn’t nearly as bad as the second time I went to sleep to your house. Yes, I didn’t tell you this. Your grand-father was super ill, I’d gone to Bergamo to stay the night because you wanted to. And then you shipped me home in the 11am train. I cried so much thinking I’d done something wrong and you didn’t want to tell me, or that was just a hopeless case and you were giving up on me. You were so egotistical that time but I let it slip because your grand-father was dying.
I did my best when that happened, I tried to be as supportive as possible even though words fail me when it’s death the problem to handle. And yet I tried and tried until I said the best words that have ever come up to me. I couldn’t even tell those to my own mother when her father died, but for you I did. I went over myself. I tried harder than ever to be empathic and tell you what you needed to hear.
I’ve been as supportive as I possibly can through all your job hunting that finally led to you being happy with the new Spanish job. You wanted to get far away from here so bad that I was genuinely happy for you. I was happy that you were chasing for a better life even if that meant you were leaving and I’d be left here, the monthly thing you still want to have?
I would climb a fucking mountain for you, Andrea. I would. If only you’d tell me what this really is, what you want from me and what I can expect from you. But I know nothing. And even with all the uncertainty in this world I chose to love you, to see you for your better self and not the façade you put for everybody else to see.
I love you, with all the things that I love and hate about you.
I love you with all your flaws and qualities, with all your truths and lies.
I love you with your mask and Chinese wall surrounding you.
I love you with your fear of bugs and beautiful tries at taking me to enjoy nature despite of how much you hate it.
I love you even when I hate you and when you hurt me.
I love you even though it hurts.
I love you, Andrea.
I. LOVE. YOU.
And you don’t give a shit.
