For years,
walking was nothing to me
not fun, not pleasure,
just something people did,
sometimes to gossip,
never for a reason that mattered.

Then life got heavy.
I cried every night.
And one day,
I chose to do something
I normally wouldn’t.

Because sometimes,
if we give effort to something,
we might find a little pleasure in it.
So I walked
just around my village.

Now,
every time I feel bad,
I go for a walk,
put music in my AirPods,
and pretend everything is okay.

I just listen.
To the song,
to my breath,
and pretend nothing around me matters.

Because maybe it never did.
I just feel too much.
I give voice
to things that were never meant
to be heard.

I don't understand people.
I never did.

How did we walk together
the same path,
but only one of us felt it,
got hurt,
cried,
and keeps doing so
for an indefinite time?

Beautiful words were said,
but they weren't truly beautiful,
because they didn’t last.
They were just decorated words
with a love created
by the imagination of a heart
that only wanted
a reciprocal love.

I don’t see him,
we don’t speak,
but the presence created
by pain itself
hurts more
than the real memory.

I don’t understand people.
And I never did.
But I’m not different.
Only, when I made someone suffer,
I didn’t suffer
and I forgot,
because I’m a person.