-It still hurts like an OpenWound-

I try to live alone
But lonely is so lonely

So human as I am
I had to give up my defences

So I smile and try to mean it
To make myself let go

Any Other World-Mika [link]

Can you see it, granpa? This is for you.
20/10/2005-20/10/2012
I've never done anything for you, I wanted to do something better but this was the best I could do. Sorry if it is a day late.
I really miss you, 7 years are a lot. I don't know how I managed to wake up everymorning knowing you were not there, knowing I couldn't phone you anymore, knowing I couldn't say to grandma "Say hello to grandpa from me!" anymore, knwing that if I was feeling sick or weird, I couldn't ask you for help, since you loved medicine and you knew everything. I wasn't able to get one fucking good grade in maths, not after that test I had to show you but you died before I could tell you the result, although I know you saw what it was.
The title I chose totally fits eveytime I think of you. It hurts like it was still an open wound.
I can't even write this nonsense without crying.
Look at me.
I am crying.
Again.
Like everytime I think of you, even for a second.
I had to stop writing because my eyes were too much full of tears to let me see the keyboard properly.
It's been seven years and I'm still crying like if it was that doomed Thursday night. I've heard the phone call in the middle of the night. I know what it was for. I heard mom's scream. I was 12 but not stupid. I'm sorry I didn't come at the hospital that week, it still burns me like hell. I didn't say goodbye to you. I couldn't see you one last time. At least my last memory of you is a smile. You waved me goodbye, I came to tell you I've done a maths test and I was happy and I wanted to come again. I didn't want you to go. In my fantasies of when I would marry or finish school, you were always there, with me, with grandma, with mom. You know, when in the documentaries they were talking about the elixir of long life, I wanted to get it for you.
I loved when you brought me with you during summer on your car, going to buy the bread and the newspaper, I loved it. I wish you could be there now, I would have driven for you.
I thank you for all the times you visited me in my dream. Those are the best ones ever. I wish you would come a little often, though. I'm always scared that I'll forget your voice but thanks to those dreams, I haven't yet.
I also know it was you that afternoon, when I saw a shadow on the wall and your scent in the air. I had no doubts it was you. And I thank you for coming, that was a visit I wasn't especting!
I still don't know what you meant in my first dream by pointing the space between my thumb and my index finger, telling that was the secret place for me and you. Is it an existing place? Or did you mean the dream in general?
I still have that husky plushie you bought me, I've named her Flora.
I know you can't come back but I want you to know that every night when I go to bed, I pray God to let you get back here. I don't care if it is stupid and childish, I'll never stop doing it, I'll only stop when I'll die.
I don't care what the others say, you were the best man on the universe for me.
My tattoo was also for you.
Angelo.
Angels have feather wings.
I now have a feather on my wrist.
One of yours, to take my dreams up high in the sky.
But I'm still crying.



everything (c)me