STORYTELLER

He was the most genuine person she had met in a while. Sure they had a lot in common, but that usually wasn't too hard to find... Someone real though, that it was. He had a good sense of humour, wasn't afraid of being open about things, but also seemed shy at times, taking a sip of his pint to hide a nervous smile - what she thought it was cute. Even though there is always a bit of awkwardness on first dates, talking to him was effortless enough, and for a moment she even forgot they were at a pub, for being too immersed in what he was saying. As she walked home, she thought about how good a storyteller he was, and that, maybe, just maybe, a new character was being added to her own tale.

TOO MUCH

It is common to feel that we are not enough. Very often we feel the need to be more, to be greater, to live up to someone's expectations. But with you, strangely, I felt like I was too much. What I considered my strengths before, suddenly became my flaws. Like a volcano that was forced to sleep because you couldn't deal with my eruption, I had to try to be smaller to fit into your world. I felt like I was too strong for you, because you were trembling. My walk felt like running, because you couldn't keep up. Worried that my laugh was too loud for you, I ignored that I was losing my will to smile. You wished for a river and didn't notice I was the ocean. You wanted a star and didn't see I was a full moon. Looking back, I realised that the moments you made me feel high were only because you had me too low, and now I can finally see... that losing you was what I needed in order to find me.

BAND-AID

She opened the messy drawer in her bedroom and started looking for a Band-Aid for her finger. She had cut herself while chopping onions and, even though it was just superficial, it stung like never before. Batteries, pens, Post-it notes, key chain, hair clips... She was about to give up on finding anything in the middle of all that junk, when she saw the shape of a tiny bag of first aid kit at the very back. She stretched her arm a little to reach it, but hesitated for a second, when she realized that underneath it was an envelope marked with a heart. "Would that be...but I threw them all away" she thought, as she sat on the bed and started to open the envelope slowly. "Oh no...". The envelope was full of photographs that had, somehow, survived when she moved houses. She took a deep breath, as if inhaling all the air she could before jumping into the sea, and pulled the pictures out. The first one was of him, which she took during one of their trips together. He was wearing the sun glasses and plaid flannel shirt she was so fond of. Then a photo of the two of them laughing. A photo of them walking on the beach. A photo of a hug. A photo of a kiss. They had been separated for months now, but suddenly it was as if she could feel his presence there. She threw herself back, lying on the bed. She remembered his smell, his touch, how she liked to fit in his arms. "Shit..." she said under her breath. She got up and walked towards the trash can, to get rid of the last printed memories. When she closed the lid though, she realised that the story about our brain only being able to pay attention to one pain at a time was the absolute truth. She had completely forgotten about the cut on her finger until that moment. And now the only thing she wished she had was a Band-aid that also worked for her heart.