Cornwall, walking along the shore, your parents in the house. The sun is strong and makes it seem like a desert, some old wooden cart and a plow, a bit of your stories, mostly my own creation.
London, your family's house, the place and the people I felt so welcomed by, a family closer than mine. A place to go to and be loved, they don't know the monster that I am. The most beautiful Christmas tree in one of those houses I saw so often in movies, but even better: it warmed up my heart.
Bristol, a visit to your childhood and a few miles away, our own beloved home. My peace in the countryside and the energy of your brightest future. A home that's never boring, a heart that's never lonely.
All fantasies that only became memories as we fed them lies, the same lies that broke us. You wouldn't call them such of course, you'd be asking me which lies, because I'm insane, or that's how I feel deep down when we fight, my true monster self, that which you, my mother and your not-babe know so well.
Why do I keep coming back? Why do I keep reopening the wound? Why am I holding on so tightly to these wishes that are as unreal as the hope for my mother to change?
All the songs you showed me and we danced till the sun wrapped us in love, the sweet moments of eyes and lips, the silly fun and fun fun, the adventures on wheels or legs, the infinite laughter, the passion and intensity of each second: the raw needs you fulfilled and overflowed... That's why I keep coming back.
There is indeed no one else like you, we could have been massive, hell, we even were and still are, to me. There was no sight that wasn't full of emotion, whether love or hate, all had all.
Now the contrast was the disrespect, the toxicity, the abuse, the lies, the double speech, the fights, the screams, the hitting, the pressure, the lack of freedom and acceptance, which turned to a resentment and mistrust that grew to become the very image of my mother in my heart. Tainted for ever, or just really hard to clean?
So then I ask myself again, why do I keep coming back?
You filled me up like no one else and in my eternal emptiness, I craved you, I still do. But there's another part in me now, one that worked and learnt that my void is trauma and it's only mine to love. If you had loved me like that without the abuse, maybe it could have worked. If you had loved me like that but with respect, maybe those fantasies we made in our hearts, could have been true.
Only it's not like that, and despite how much I wish it was, despite how much I love you, there's no stopping us now. Just not in the way we danced it.
I constantly wonder what I cannot see, those things I'm blinded to by these deep pains that resurface like a sunken ship in the foggy dawn: My mistakes, the pains I've inflicted. Those I won't understand nearly as deeply as these infected wounds of mine.
I can tell you all my wishes of growth, healing and re-encountering, all my own fantasies of true love with you, but they might just bring more pain so I will only say the next.
Louis, once again, I am sorry for a lot and thankful for another bunch. I wish it had been different since the beginning and I miss you immensely, but I need to protect myself because this wound that reopens each week as we speak from different sides of the planet flows too deep for me to sustain such bleeding. I feel empty without you because I got used to your loving heart on mine, but the pains surrounding this divine company are the signs that shine the brightest, worrying red like severe burns.
I'm sorry for exploding and I hope you understand the reason for each of them, just as I understand the reasons for your anger, your fears and your pains, you actions and words.
I really wish you the very best, the healing and true love you deserve, my heart-stopping ginger love. I miss your freckled skin and your old-looking hands. The quirks of a treasure almost hand-made for me. What a loss, yet a relief.
I need to go now and you have to move on (up), you're stronger than before, wiser too, and I really hope you see your own light now or soon. I send you freeing love, sunshine and luck for this new stage in your life. I only hope you don't hate me more now that I'm saying goodbye.
Goodbye Loupi and the other many nicknames you got throughout our never-boring intertwine. You always were, are and will be special, and I wish you know that by now.