So, come back, your seat is vacant.
I won’t set fire to the letters I wrote to you.
I won’t delete all of the pictures I took while you were not noticing me and, above all, I won’t throw away that Jupiter always hanging down my neck.
Furthermore, I don’t want to stop looking after you ‘cause I’m only feeling more and more fucked up.
You weren’t toxic, you became toxic when you chose it.
Giving up on you is quite like a titanic feat, giving up on you is really heartbreaking, like killing part of myself, but this is not the matter, the matter is that you know how I feel and I know that, whenever you’ll receive my messages, you’ll think again about how much you hurt me, you’ll feel guilty and maybe you’ll regret it and maybe, sooner or later, you won’t give a shit about that like you’re doing it with everything, right now.
Dunno, but I know that I’ve always wanted to see you happy and that’s what I want now, too. I can’t live being one of the reasons for your pain, I can’t see you hurt, so I’ll leave the stage trying to keep some of your pain with me.
What about your girlfriend? There’s a part of me, the part made up of pride and ego, that force me to say I hope she’ll find out everything, from the start, and treat you as bad as you deserve. You know how good and bad ego and pride work together, but I have the control, isn’t it?
So, no, I won’t wish you those bad things, everybody make mistakes, nobody is a saint and I’m incredible, so I do wish you she won’t find it out and if she finds it out, I hope she’ll forgive you, despite everything, because you don’t deserve more pain (instead of what you think) and she won’t find other you.
Nonetheless, I hope everything will be good and fine because I want you happy and, I swear, that’s the only thing that matters.
There’s one last thing, the most important part of what I’ve been writing.
I saw you, I saw the real you, I saw what you can give to other people and what you want to give them, I know you’re “a good man with a good heart” who wants others to feel good. As I told you, you made me happy like no others have done but there’s this thing I want you to give greater importance to, give it more importance than you gave to my tears (I know my sadness became your obsession, I know you didn’t think I was good with you).
You made me feel good and right, you helped me killing monsters I’ve carried inside of myself.
How did I do that? Trusting you, making you my strength. I made you my strength in facing everything, even my arms’ problem. You’ve seen them and looked at that scratches lots of time, you know how bad I’ve been feeling about it. Now, they’re getting better, didn’t solve the problem, but I’m facing it, got scars, but less than before. I can realize whenever my nails try to catch and scratch my skin and I can force myself to stop. I owe it to you as it is thanks to you the way I deal with my mom’s problem and everything else.
You gave me the strength to do everything, from not crying now, to letting you go hoping you’ll be better.
Why am I saying it now? ‘Cause I want you to know that you made me feel safe, you made me feel at home, you kept me “where the light is”. Because you’ve been my strength and you’ll always be. Because, if you’d ever lose the strength to act or react, I want you to grab these words as a handhold. That’s the truth.
Grab the good you made to me as a lifesaver, if you’ll ever need it.
And I’m saying it to you ‘cause I’m incredible and I want you to know that you don’t only make mistakes, for what it’s worth now.