Why do thoughts of her continue to occupy my days when she has stopped being part of my life for more than a decade? She who broke my heart and left without explanations. I think of Prue because in reality I think of myself. I try to capture moments long gone to have a glimpse at who I used to be.
It is not Prue but who we once were that I try to bring back to life, to understand. I have survived and I have loved and I have loved again and yet, that kind of love, the one where laughter is merged with tears of bitterness and sorrow, the one that breaks your heart seems to haunt the soul endlessly. I think of Prue and I try to see me and grasp what I felt then that has not been like anything that I have felt since. I don’t miss that feeling as much as I miss the person who was able to feel it.
This world doesn’t belong to me. These eyes do not see me. In the face of destiny, I am not better nor stronger than the rest. My words have dried out. My heart has dried out and I am weary, waiting. I make love to the world feeling nothing but the fading throbbing of a broken heart. I walk on and I walk away from a home that has ceased to know my name. What will you do in a place where no one feels your existence? What will you do in a grave no one will visit? I can’t feel homesick, if I don’t have a home. I walk on and I walk away leaving monuments of sand in the furrows of an unknown land. These are the final traces of whom I used to be.
‘But what if it rains?’ she said.