#cheio-do-vazio

I wish I could write about the various sensations you make me feel, but the truth is that I am sort of losing the ability of doing that. First of all, most of my previously descripted feelings haven't changed. I don't want to drown into an eternal loop of the same ideas, the same sentences, the same paragraphs. Well, my philosophy professor told us that paragraphs are meant to separate ideas. That is probably the only useful thing he taught us, although I, as a language student, had previously learnt that throughout my undergraduate course. I am particularly good at organising sentences into paragraphs, I believe, but of course, everything gets so messed up when I think about you. I found you really scary the day I first met you. Well, I couldn't think about anything else, since you were just a stranger giving me a ride home. Thankfully, the second ride you gave me was pretty nice. I was really, really nervous, but you showed me that you are not the kind of person that would bore me with casual chit-chat. In three hours of traffic jam, I learnt everything about you, your hobbies, your friends, even about your lack of sexual interest. Wait, there's a name to it! Asexuality, isn't it? When I first mentioned it, we instantly identified with one another. "That is the coolest thing ever!", I thought. "That guy is pretty cool, I want to be his friend". I wasn't wrong, was I? We, then, started seeing each other more often. Not so often as it could be, as you had your gang, and I had mine. These times were pretty cool, though. Sometimes I sort of regret not trying to make out with you earlier. The idea of going out with a man wasn't the most appealing to me, but I have always believed in love, regardless of gender. I have always knew, deep inside me, that I fell in love with people without necessarily being sexually attracted to them. However, it was quite complicated to explain to the bunch of gay people I used to talk to and adore. I thought they were the most comprehensive and prejudiceless people ever. I couldn't be more wrong. These times made me look after some people who had the same feelings as mine, and then, I made some asexual friends besides you. "That guy is really cool, why don't you date him?" "Are you mad? We are just friends!" I've had this dialogue with a couple of people countless times. Well, it is impossible not to directly think about you when I hear the expression "coming of age". Even though we met each other two years ago, which is quite recent, you have already become the most important part of my life. It is impossible not to hear the songs we used to sing together in your car with a big smile. The same smile that, now, you say that you are completely in love with. When I think about our friendship, it is impossible not to directly associate it with our favourite pizza spot, our same seat, our same choice. I bet no one would ever imagine that this simple act we used to do almost religiously would affect us. Do you remember the times I would not let you go, and then, would ask you to park near the Catholic church? I was so deep into you I couldn't even notice that. I wanted you by my side, to talk about my stupidity, mt fears, my teenage angst. You were always so patient and kind, I owe everything to you. Hey! When it all started, I stopped just waving you goodbye. I started kissing you on the cheek. However, I always felt really awkward when I used to give a peck on someone else's lips, and not yours. I have always been too ashamed to do so. And then, one day, when I was slightly drunk, you stole me one! Hahaha. You said later that, a couple of minutes before that funny moment, I looked deep into your eyes with a very sad look. Our faces were closer than the way they were used to, and you felt weird. I vaguely remember that moment. I wanted to scream "help me", but words were useless and would never cease the pain I was feeling at that moment. Well, never would I have thought that you had ever considered the possibility of kissing me that day. And it didn't happen. I remember another day that left us thoughtful about the vague possibility of kissing each other. Once again, it didn't happen. We drank one of our favourite brands of wine. It makes me surprised that we shared a whole bottle, and nowadays, we only drink two glasses a day when it is too much. Do you still remember the day we drank vodka and lay down on the grass due to drunkenness? I do. And, to me, that day when we drank wine was the remake version of the previous one. I once again looked deeper and deeper into your eyes. Why haven't I noticed before that they were so beautiful? So dark, such a tender gaze, and your eyelids are so cute that they slightly resemble of Asian ones. That was the first time I actively thought of kissing you, but I was too afraid of doing that just because I felt hurt. I did not want to hurt you. Everyone used to say you were into me, but I still hadn't believed in that. I remember holding your face, rubbing my fingers through your hair, sighing... But that was all. I could only believe that you truly liked me when I heard that from you. You said you have never tried anything with me just because of some stupid reason. "That is not true!", I stepped closer. "If you want to kiss me, why don't you do it right now?" And then, it happened. My heart beats faster when I think about that day. To be honest, it was not the type of kiss I would say I liked. The movements were too artificial, I found it very difficult to go with your flow. I thought that act would ruin the only true friendship I had. At that moment, no one else would ever support me. It still feels the same way. I stopped kissing you and looked into your eyes as if I were saying sorry. I laid my head down in your shoulder, took a deep breath, and held you. We stood like that, in perfect silence, for a couple of minutes. Although it was clumsy as fuck, when I think about it today, it is the kind of kiss I wanted to be my first. Later then, I gave you the so-called peck on the lips, and waved goodbye. I am terrible at remembering dates, but, a week or so later, I made most terrible confession ever. I was really attached to you. My jealousy irritated you. You could not comprehend how jealous I could be, if my intentions were supposedly not the same as yours. Well, I simultaneously found the courage to confess my feelings to you... And to myself. How couldn't I fall in love with you? You have always treated me like a lady, you have always been there when I needed a friend. I totally messed up your head, but I swear it was not more messed up than mine. And then, again, we met. We were supposed to talk about our feelings, right? Well, it sort of happened. The scenario was great: a bottle of red wine just for me, your car, a safe place to park. I decided to let my lips directly talk to yours: I grabbed you almost furiously and kissed you unstoppably. Whenever I listen those CDs that we were listening, those sweet memories come to my mind again. The next day, you said your mood changed a lot, that you woke up brighter than you ever felt before. That was so sweet, I felt really grateful. However, I was still a bit ashamed to kiss you, especially in front of other people. That feeling only changed in New Year: all I could think about was stealing your lips. That night could last forever, couldn't it? The champagne was great, your company comforted me, and turning the year with a kiss was amazing. When I remember everything that happened that night, even the menthol cigarettes we shared were special. Those doses of Red Label we grabbed were the best thing ever. Unfortunately, unlike you, I wasn't able to drink it all at once. I was so drunk I almost lost my glasses! And, also, I made you a really naughty request: "Let's go to your car", I whispered in your ear. Unfortunately, I am not completely able to remember details of what happened there. I just remember the moment you went down on me for the first time. "Man, is it serious?", I asked rhetorically. "Yep", you answered, and then, went back to your job. The funny thing is that you were just playing lesbians with me, but I bled a lot the following day. Well, I'm glad you are a better lesbian now. Our friends only saw that all of the windows of the car were blurred. That was enough. We are still a bit ashamed of that. How many times we spent doing that before we went to the whole process? I don't know exactly. Well, seeing you take a lot of effort into this, while my only function was to enjoy it, was really bugging me. However, I must admit I was afraid of undressing you and finding an enormous creature capable of living on its own. If we include some accuracy corrections, I wasn't that wrong, was I? It did not hurt. At all. That was great. However, I couldn't really feel anything. It was too fast, as far as I remember. We ate pasta. We love pasta. I wanted to experience that again. You were afraid. It took us some time to do it again. Always, one of us would commit a small disaster. I'm sorry about the times I hit you with my teeth. I love the way we faced everything: always with a smile, holding hands, learning about each other's bodies as if we were virgins again. It did not took me long until I really felt at ease around you wearing nothing but your skin. It has always felt to me as the purest and most gentle form of being loved. Even though nowadays I can say our love is my favourite activity, I also enjoy a lot the times when we simply sleep together, holding one another so tight. I am more than used to your unstoppable bladder, the times I talk to you while you sleep and you don't remember anything the next day, the morning kisses and cuddles saying "let's get up down, darling!", but I am always too lazy. I wish I could stay in your bed everyday, everytime. Now, it feels like my own bed doesn't belong to me anymore. Even though our beds were made to fit only one person, I have this sensation that they are too big when you are not with me. Well, right now, I don't feel like sleeping. I'm sad, I already miss you, and writing a giant single paragraph about our whole relationship seemed more interesting than laying down alone.