I'm so sorry
I can't love you back.

I'm busy crying for someone
who doesn't love me back,
too.

I'd like to think people are like little universes.

Have you gone around crowded streets?
have you seen them?
Not like you see them when they cross the street with you:
I want to know if you wouldn't love to know
what's going through their minds.

It works like this:
choose a person,
any person will do, becasue after all,
we are all made of more or less the same things.

We are all made of thoughts like stars and constellations,
and loved ones who live inside us like planets
(my cat means a world to me)
we are made of talents that make us shine like comets
and fears that sometimes can be like black holes.

Choose a person,
any person will do, but be careful,
because decoding a universe isn't as easy as you think:
have you got one?

You finally got one.
He stepped out of the coffee shop with a latte.
He walks, and when he walks,
he moves with the intensity of a shooting star.

Go and say hi.
If he answers, and he tells you his name,
congratulations:
the door is open.
Now it's up to you to wander like a lost astronaut
in the Milky Way that a person's mind can be.

You may get to know the hidden galaxy under his skin,
and if you are a little lucky, some of it will melt with yours:
you may share worlds and form constellations with stars from both
("last night I heard this song that reminded me of you")
but there's a thing you have to remember:

this universe where we live is infinite,
and it's always expanding itself more and more,
forming more mysteries we might never reveal.

Our universes are little, but also so big
sometimes we don't even know ourselves at all.

Today I asked myself
what's the point of pretty words.

I mean,
what's the point
of writing
sighs for you
secretly
while you
dedicate yours
to someone
who's not
and
will never be
me?

And the answer was clear:

freedom.

People find it weird when I say that
twenty years from now
I see myself single.

It's funny,
how they incredulously raise an eyebrow
as they try to explain me
"honey, don't say that, you'll find someone someday"
as if falling in love was some kind of unwritten rule.

It may be a little rush to think
I'll spend my whole life with only myself as company
but it's actually curious to see how everybody is so into telling me
that by no means I'm going to be a sad fourty-year-old cat-lady.

Because if no one loves you when you're fourty
you surely are a sad cat-lady,
right?

Because failure means
turning thirty-five and having no marriage in sight,
turning twenty-five without at least one ex-boyfriend,
turning eighteen and have never been kissed,
right?

Because everyday I hear more and more teenage girls
worrying about turning sixteen without a kiss to remember
and that gives them so much shame they don't even mention it
as they go past other girls with a single thought running inside their minds:
"is this normal?"

This is very normal, dear.
You're not doing things wrong, on the contrary, you still have a lot of time.
But you are scared you might not be desirable.
You are scared you might turn thirty-five and still have not been desired, not even once.

But the people who love you don't define your value,
in fact nothing and nobody does
the only value that matters is the one you give to yourself
and once you value who you are,
you will be truly able to love others
and to love them deeply: a kind of love that is worth to receive.

Unfortunately, it's common to get confused
and think you will never be happy unless someone wants you.

Don't believe that,
or you might become thirty-five
married and with the feeling you're not complete and something's missing
as you go past other mothers with a single thought running inside your mind:
"is this normal?"

And that shouldn't be so normal.