Dolce Vita

Andrej Aiden Ilyinsky

The thing is, you make me happy. You walked in when it seemed like the rest of the world walked out. You were there. You are there. I never need to pretend when I’m around you, when I’m talking too you, when I’m with you. You’re hilarious; you make me laugh all the time. You seem to pick up that something’s wrong before everyone else does and you know exactly what to say to make it all okay, and even if it’s only for a little while, it helps. The thing is, I love you, and I am so glad I have you.

While you were sleeping I figured out everything, I was constructed for you and you were molded for me. Now I feel your name coursing through my veins. You shine so bright, it’s insane. You put the sun to shame.

I understand feelings as small and insignificantly as humanly possible and how it can actually ache in places you didn’t know you had inside you. And it doesn’t matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or new clothes you get. you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the heck for that brief moment you could think you were happy. And sometimes you even convince yourself that he’ll see the light and show up at the door. And after that, however long all that maybe, you’ll go somewhere new and you’ll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff.

We don’t talk at all now. Not having you around anymore definitely makes my life easier, but not better. I love you. It’s just that we complicate each other’s lives too much. We can’t even be friends because we have gone too deep and fucked up way too much. And to be honest, I don’t know how to be happy for you. I mean I want you to be happy, it’s just that I still want to be the reason.

I miss how you wanted me.

And it just feels like my insides are in this constant battle, where one part of me just wants to be happy, confident, fine without you. But the other part.. the other part just wants you to see just how you affect me, and exactly what you’ve done to me.

When you remember me, it means that you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we meet again, you will know me. It means that even after I die, you can still see my face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart. For as long as you remember me, I am never entirely lost.

When you’re thinking about how much you miss me, and I’m completely fine, remember how I felt, and remind yourself this is what you wanted. Because with every day coming and going, I’m learning how to be okay without you. And I can’t wait for the day when I get to look at you and feel absolutely nothing.

I suppose I’m a little bit scared. You might not like that I felt so much for him. But that was then. You are here now, you make me and define me. It’s over after all, but he’s still a part of me. And I want you to know all about it, so there are no secrets.

When you fall as fast and as far as I did, you are no longer yourself. You are blinded by your heart. You breathe him, and he’s all you see when you wake up and lay your head down. Then one day, he’s gone. The sky crashes down upon you , and you change again. You run to the phone every time it rings, expecting him to be there, to tell you everything’s going to be all right and that things can be the same as they used to. You and him, together, forever. But only a dial tone replies to your pleas. Oh sure, I’ll get over you… I’ll live again. But every time I see you, the memories of all the wonderful times we spent together flash through my head and a little piece of me dies.

I know being with me is not easy. But I want you to understand no one has me, or has ever had me, except you.