It hurts deep inside. I remain silent, I keep the secret inside, because that’s all that is left of me. A beautiful voice that makes us cry. A need to express myself. A need to sing. Because this voice inside of me, it’s not a hobby. It’s my greatest treasure, a vital need, a desire to live completely, to heal my wounds, to cover up years of deceptions and wounds. A need to celebrate the beauty of magical moments, of memorable encounters with amazing people, of a heart that is beating hard in my chest. A need to thank you for your smile. A need to tell him to fuck off for leaving me behind. A need to thank her for her kind and heart-warming words. A need to tell you that I love you, that without you, nothing would ever be the same. That I love you a hundred times, a thousand times, a billion times. That this love is so strong that my heart is about to explode, my heart made out of beautiful memories and bitter tears.
I need to sing, I want to sing, that’s what I love, that’s who I am, that’s what defines me. I am my own voice. I am a voice. A voice to tell people how much you hurt me, how I fell for you within a fraction of a second. How I grew attached to your eyes, your dark hair and your golden skin, your smile, your hand on my hand, your reassuring words, to you who built me up and then let me down. How you left one day, one morning, when you were about to miss your train. You told the others to go, that you’d join them in a minute. You came towards me, grabbed my hands and told me « Forget me, but I will never forget you ». How I hate you for saying these words. These perfect words that no one would have told me in a million years. You left and you left behind you an unfinished story. And then came the time to forget about you. Impossible. A need to sing your memory to forget you for real, to let you go, to give you to her, this Swedish girl. To her blond hair, her blue eyes, this negative photograph of my own face. Two years and a half already. You look happy together.
Singing is like shouting in the dark, hoping that someone will hear our call for help. Singing is my need to forget my loneliness. Time passes by. And then you’re here. You, with your laughing eyes. Your grin. Your scandalous sense of humor and you rebellious blond hair. I am burning inside for you. You, who are everything I’d usually wouldn’t pick in a guy. You, the unique, the 6.8 ft tall « kid » at heart, the rebellious you, making me laugh against my will while I’m trying to hide my pain. You, who take everything for granted, the medicine student, party guy, that I find everyday in a robe that’s too short on the living room couch at 1:30am because you just can’t sleep. You, with who I watch danish movies that I cannot understand in the middle of the night just to make myself tired enough to sleep.
You, whose last memory is in your arms, in front of several lines of bikes, downtown in the middle of the street, my head against your torso, my burning tears against your shirt. Because your arms are the only place where I ever felt safe, the only place where I ever felt that I was myself. You, who hold me for a long time in your arms while whispering that it was okay to cry. And him, this stupid and perfect friend, just like you, just like us, who joined us and hugged us both while shouting « Sandwich hug! », making us smile between the tears. And suddenly, it hit me like a rock in the face. All of this, your contagious smile, the shivers that it kept giving me, the burning joy within my heart when I heard your voice in the hallway when you were back from a trip abroad, all of this… it’s not normal. Friends are not like that. It’s not supposed to be like that. You, that I keep talking to everyone about. You, so imperfectly perfect that I wouldn’t change an inch of you. You, who, without knowing it, understand me better than anyone. You, that I never thought I deserved…
You, that I let go to another girl despite the pain. Even though something breaks inside of me when I see you kissing her. And I smile when you turn to me, I act as the good friend, the good flatmate. Nice to meet you. I shake her hand. I awkwardly smile. I know that she’s stealing you from me but my greatest desire is your happiness, even though the price is my own. A happiness that I would never be able to give to you. You, the antonym of who I am. You, my unexpected ray of light. You, who ignore it all. You, the great friend that I fell for.