[SPA-ENG] La Carta, relato de domingo/ The Letter, Sunday story

Hola querida comunidad de Hive😍

Espero tengan un domingo tranquilo🤗,hace poco escribí un relato (un poco triste, debo admitir) pero que está cargado de sentimientos. Me recuerda a esa etapa adolescente donde cada pequeña emoción ¡era un dilema!. Una verdad para mí es que los domingos son un poco nostálgicos, como dice José Ángel Buesa en su poema del domingo triste

"Este domingo triste nace de algo que es mío, que quizás es tu ausencia y quizás es mi hastío, mientras corren las aguas por la calle en declive y el corazón se muere de un ensueño que vive." -José Angel Buesa

Sin más preámbulo, espero disfruten la lectura

Editada en Picsart

Desperté entre rayos de Sol y mi alma naufragaba en mares de interés... buscando una estrella. No encontré nada y lo entendí todo: estaba sola.

Mi cama fría desconocía mi cuerpo, y entre bostezos llegué sin fuerzas hasta el baño. Cuatro paredes cubiertas de baldosas blancas y un espejo. Mi reflejo me daba balazos de angustia, y entre ojeras negras mis pupilas brillaban y mis ojos ocupaban toda mi atención. Me entretuve con mis manos, el agua que salía del grifo era escasa... como mis ganas de permanecer ahí.

Salí y los adoquines arrastraban mis pies, las horas jugaban a ser meses, y el silencio las acompañaba. Entre el laberinto de mis vestidos mi estómago rompió el silencio, culminé de vestirme y encendí la radio. Tomé un desgraciado café y un imbécil y desabrido pan, me senté junto a mi sombra y desayuné a regañadientes.

“-Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry, You don't know how lovely you are...”

Oí que sonaba. Me deleité en esa canción que tanto amo, y me distraje con un pájaro que se posó fuera de la ventana. Me levanté y sentí frío en los pies, no me había percatado de que andaba descalza, seguí hasta mi habitación y dejé la puerta abierta.

Observé entre carpetas mal puestas tu carta, que en realidad era mía, pero dirigida hacia ti. Esa carta que jamás te di porque sabía que te aburrían las antiguas cartas de amor (aunque no era ese el objetivo de la carta).

“Nobody said it was easy, Oh it's such a shame for us to part. Nobody said it was easy no one ever said it would be so hard. I'm going back to the start”

Seguí escuchando la canción que ahora terminaba. Tomé tu carta, o bueno... la carta, y no encontré el valor para abrirla, el cuarto se hizo tan grande y vacío cuando vi tu nombre escrito con mi letra tan ordenada y legible, (o así la describías). Vi tu nombre y las lágrimas amenazaban con salir. He pasado meses sin observar tu nombre, he recordado momentos, situaciones, pero había olvidado lo mucho que amé tu nombre.

Recuerdo el día que me dejaste, fue el mismo día que mi corazón se destrozó, el mismo en el que mi alma perdió el rumbo, e incluso el mismo día que escribí esa carta, tu carta. El día estaba nublado y yo estaba feliz: te iba a ver...y así fue, aunque no como pensaba.
Estabas estresado, como de costumbre, con tu cabello enredado largo hasta las orejas, y esa camisa que era dos tallas más que la que solías usar. Te miré y tus ojos me observaban, pero no dijiste nada, no esperaba un cumplido (aunque me esmeré en arreglarme ese día), pero lo que mas deseaba era perderme junto a ti en un abrazo... pero no fue así.

Imagen Editada en Picsart

Miraste tu reloj y dijiste algo en voz muy baja, pedí que lo repitieras ya que no lo había escuchado, y ahora que lo recuerdo, no estaba preparada. Me dijiste que te ibas, y creo que mi cara mostró la confusión que eso generó, y agregaste:

“Terminamos, no puedo seguir con esta relación”.

Reí en el momento creyendo que era la peor de tus bromas, pero me observabas con rabia y sentí un nudo en la garganta, y supe qué era el dolor.

Yo no decía nada, y tu rompiste el silencio plasmando en el vacío las razones o excusas que generaron tu decisión, las cuales aterrizaron en mi herida. No encontré sentido en lo que decías, y las lágrimas fluían por mis ojos y dejé de escucharte.

Pensé en darte la carta que te había escrito horas antes, y que ahora sentía que pesaba en el bolso, pero recordé el mal humor que cargabas encima, y decidí no mencionarla siquiera. Intentaste disculparte conmigo después de terminar esa relación que duró ocho meses, y toda mi motivación y esperanza. Me abrazaste, pero no lo vi venir, tus brazos a mi alrededor me eran extraños.

-Lo siento.

Escuché a lo lejos. Me senté en un banco cerca, y empezaste a repetir mi nombre para que fijara mi atención en ti, pero estaba en trance, y eso hizo que se me rompiera el corazón. No que terminaras conmigo dando excusas infantiles ajenas a la relación, si no que decías mi nombre y las palabras eran vacías, frías, fastidiosas,... las palabras salían tan fácil de tus labios que supe que no venían de tu corazón. Supe que no te dolía en lo absoluto, supe que esa era mi realidad y que tenía que enfrentarla.

Te miré, y no supe qué decir, ni pensar, ni hacer.

-¿Por qué?

Alcancé a decir, y te clavé mi mirada, y tu reflejo estaba inundado en el mar de mis ojos.

-Ya lo dije.

Me dijiste secamente, con tu mirada tan fría, tan apurada y tan aburrida. Te odié en ese momento, y ahora que lo recuerdo, sigo odiandola intensamente.

-Fueron excusas.

Te dije lo mas segura que pude, aunque mi voz temblaba y no podía ejercer control sobre ella.

-Si me amas, si me quieres, ¿por qué no me dices lo que en verdad pasa y lo solucionamos? Quizá sea una tontería..

Seguía diciendo yo, al ver que aún tenías esa mirada. Bajaste el rostro, y te sonrojaste. Estabas furioso. Tanto tiempo conociéndote sabía que únicamente te sonrojabas cuando estabas verdaderamente molesto.

-¡Es ese el problema!

Dijiste, casi gritando.

-Yo no te amo, nunca lo hice, de lo contrario arreglaríamos las cosas, ¿que es lo que aún no entiendes?. -concluiste.

Ahora era yo quien bajó la mirada. “Yo no te amo”, “Yo no te amo”, repetía en mi cabeza. Tus palabras secaron mis ojos y un ardor se adueñó de ellos. Desde que escupiste esas palabras me fortalecí en mi sentimiento. Tan sólo cuatro palabras bastaron para destrozarme el orgullo, el ego y para que mi alma perdiera la esperanza.

Recuerdo que alcé la mirada y te dije que te terminaras de ir.

-Pensé que ya te habías marchado. -escupí con voz firme.

Lo último que recuerdo antes de ir a clases ese día, era que tomaste el bolso y te fuiste. Te seguí con la mirada, pero no volteaste.

Ese día al llegar a mi casa tomé la carta, la releí un centenar de veces, y escribí unos párrafos que luego borré porque decidí dejarla como estaba. La dejé entre carpetas y no la tomé hasta hoy.
Si te hubiese dado la carta te hubieses detenido cuando te marchabas sólo para tirarla a la basura, quizá sin leerla. Las cosas no iban a cambiar si te la hubiese entregado ese día, o no. El contenido de la carta no eran cd's de ese rap que te gustaba, ni la continuación de ese manga que leías.

Eran sólo tres párrafos escritos a puño y letra por mi, en el cual comparaba lo “feliz” que “nos” sentíamos con las maravillas de la naturaleza, y tus ojos con todas las cosas azules que se me ocurrieron. Hablaba de aquel día comiendo pizza en tu casa, y viendo películas de Marvel. Recuerdo de memoria esa carta y con la felicidad que la escribí. Felicidad desconozco esa palabra en este domingo por la tarde.

En la carta me abrí a ti, y te escribí cosas que sentía y que jamás dije, y que planeaba que supieras cuando lo leyeras. Ahora nunca lo sabrás, y eso me hace sentir bien de alguna manera.

La radio se escucha con ruido: se fue la señal. Miro a mi alrededor y tomo la carta, y decido abrirla. Y ahí está, tal cual como la recordaba, la leo un par de veces y centro mi vista en el final de la misma, y recuerdo el objetivo de entregarte esta carta. El final decía así:

“Cariño, mi sonrisa no me cabe en el rostro, y sé que jamás te he dicho nada, pero Te amo. No he escuchado tampoco esas palabras de ti, pero el brillo de tus ojos me lo repiten si así lo quiero. Te amo inmensamente,¿es eso recíproco? Sé que si”.

Ahora siento el mismo nudo en la garganta, al igual que aquel último día que te escuché. Ahora sé que no era recíproco. Ahora sé que nunca lo fue.

Puedes seguirme en mis redes sociales:

Facebook, Instagram, Twitter como Hive account@grissshm

¡Gracias por leer!❣️

ENGLISH

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

Hello dear Hive community

I hope you have a peaceful Sunday🤗,I recently wrote a story (a bit sad, I must admit) but it is loaded with feelings. It reminds me of that adolescent stage where every little emotion was a dilemma!. A truth for me is that Sundays are a bit nostalgic, as José Ángel Buesa says in his poem of the sad Sunday

"This sad Sunday is born of something that is mine, that perhaps is your absence and perhaps is my boredom, while the waters run down the street in decline and the heart dies of a reverie that lives." -José Angel Buesa

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the reading.

I woke up among rays of sunshine and my soul was shipwrecked in seas of interest... searching for a star. I found nothing and I understood everything: I was alone.

My cold bed did not know my body, and between yawns I arrived without strength to the bathroom. Four walls covered with white tiles and a mirror. My reflection gave me bullets of anguish, and between black circles under my eyes my pupils shone and my eyes occupied all my attention. I fumbled with my hands, the water coming out of the faucet was scarce... like my desire to stay there.

I stepped outside and the cobblestones dragged my feet, the hours played at being months, and silence accompanied them. In the labyrinth of my clothes my stomach broke the silence, I finished dressing and turned on the radio. I took a wretched coffee and an imbecilic and tasteless bread, sat down next to my shadow and had breakfast reluctantly.

"-Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry, You don't know how lovely you are..."

I heard it playing. I basked in that song I love so much, and was distracted by a bird that landed outside the window. I got up and felt cold on my feet, I hadn't realized I was barefoot, I continued to my room and left the door open.

I looked through misplaced folders at your letter, which was really mine, but addressed to you. That letter I never gave you because I knew you were bored with old love letters (although that was not the purpose of the letter).

"Nobody said it was easy, Oh it's such a shame for us to part. Nobody said it was easy no one ever said it would be so hard. I'm going back to the start"

I kept listening to the song that was now ending. I took your letter, or well... the letter, and I couldn't find the courage to open it, the room became so big and empty when I saw your name written in my handwriting so neat and legible, (or so you described it). I saw your name and the tears threatened to come. I have gone months without looking at your name, I have remembered moments, situations, but I had forgotten how much I loved your name.

I remember the day you left me, it was the same day my heart was shattered, the same day my soul lost its way, and even the same day I wrote that letter, your letter. The day was cloudy and I was happy: I was going to see you...and I did, though not as I thought.

Image Edited with Picsart

You were stressed, as usual, with your hair tangled up to your ears, and that shirt that was two sizes bigger than the one you used to wear. I looked at you and your eyes were watching me, but you didn't say anything, I didn't expect a compliment (even though I did my best to dress up that day), but what I wanted the most was to get lost with you in an embrace... but it wasn't like that.

You looked at your watch and said something in a very low voice, I asked you to repeat it since I hadn't heard it, and now that I remember, I wasn't prepared. You told me you were leaving, and I think my face showed the confusion that generated, and you added:

"We broke up, I can't go on with this relationship".

I laughed at the time thinking it was the worst of your jokes, but you were watching me angrily and I felt a lump in my throat, and I knew what the pain was.

I didn't say anything, and you broke the silence by capturing in the emptiness the reasons or excuses that generated your decision, which landed in my wound. I found no sense in what you were saying, and tears flowed down my eyes and I stopped listening to you.

I thought about giving you the letter I had written you hours before, which now felt heavy in my bag, but I remembered the bad mood you were carrying, and decided not to even mention it. You tried to apologize to me after ending that relationship that lasted eight months, and all my motivation and hope. You hugged me, but I didn't see it coming, your arms around me were strange.

I'm sorry.

I heard in the distance. I sat on a bench nearby, and you started repeating my name to fix my attention on you, but I was in a trance, and that made my heart break. Not that you broke up with me giving childish excuses unrelated to the relationship, but that you said my name and the words were empty, cold, annoying,... the words came so easily from your lips that I knew they didn't come from your heart. I knew it didn't hurt you at all, I knew that was my reality and that I had to face it.

I looked at you, and I didn't know what to say, or think, or do.

Why?

I managed to say, and I stared at you, and your reflection was flooded in the sea of my eyes.

I already said it.

You told me dryly, with your look so cold, so hurried and so boring. I hated you at that moment, and now that I remember, I still hate you intensely.

-Those were excuses.

I told you as confidently as I could, although my voice was trembling and I couldn't exert control over it.

-If you love me, if you love me, why don't you tell me what's really going on and we'll work it out? Maybe it's silly...

I kept saying, seeing that you still had that look on your face. You lowered your face, and blushed. You were furious. Knowing you for so long, I knew that you only blushed when you were really upset.

That's the problem!

You said, almost shouting.

-I don't love you, I never did, otherwise we would fix things, what is it that you still don't understand? > -you concluded.

Now it was me who looked down. "I don't love you", "I don't love you", I repeated in my head. Your words dried my eyes and a burning took possession of them. Since you spat those words I grew stronger in my feeling. Just four words were enough to shatter my pride, my ego and to make my soul lose hope. I remember I looked up and told you to finish leaving.

I thought you had already left. -I spat in a firm voice.

The last thing I remember before I went to class that day, you grabbed your bag and left. I followed you with my eyes, but you didn't turn around. That day when I got home I took the letter, reread it a hundred times, and wrote a few paragraphs that I later erased because I decided to leave it as it was. I left it between folders and didn't pick it up until today.
If I had given you the letter you would have stopped when you were leaving just to throw it in the trash, maybe without reading it. Things were not going to change if I had given it to you that day, or not. The contents of the letter were not cd's of that rap you liked, nor the continuation of that manga you read.
It was just three paragraphs written in my own handwriting, in which I compared how "happy" we "felt" with the wonders of nature, and your eyes with all the blue things I could think of. I was talking about that day eating pizza at your house, and watching Marvel movies.

I remember that letter by heart, and with the happiness I wrote it. Happiness I don't know that word on this Sunday afternoon.
In the letter I opened up to you, and wrote you things I felt and never said, and planned for you to know when you read it. Now you'll never know, and that makes me feel good somehow.

The radio is noisy: the signal's gone. I look around and pick up the letter, and decide to open it. And there it is, just as I remembered it, I read it a couple of times and focus my eyes on the end of it, and remember the purpose of delivering this letter to you. The end went like this:

"Honey, my smile doesn't fit on my face, and I know I've never said anything to you, but I love you. I haven't heard those words from you either, but the sparkle in your eyes repeats it to me if I want to. I love you immensely, is that reciprocal? I know I do.

Now I feel the same lump in my throat as I did that last day I heard you. Now I know it wasn't reciprocated. Now I know it never was.

You can follow me on my social networks:

Facebook, Instagram, Twitter as Hive account@grissshm 🦄

Thanks if you've read this far!❣️

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★