Love, Hope and Other Sins

I wouldn't write that if Nuno didn't ask me to. Uh. He's not going to like it.

I hate that time of each day. The time of me being surrounded by everything I hate so much.
Silence- nothing I can do about it. Nothing to make it go away. Nothing to say, nothing to do, but to think. I hate the way I have the tendency to think too much about the same thing over and over again. I try to re-imagine the things that would happen, the things that would make me the happiest person in the world. But then again, I cannot, I just can't relive the feeling of having hope.
Now, I'm stripped of any positive sense of thinking. At least back then, I used to have the comfort of hope, but now, I can't even believe in hope. No hope in hope.
Some nights are very difficult. When I can't fall asleep for a very long time, when I try to imagine possible answers to my never-ending 'why's'. And most of all, I try to imagine him, in all his glory, finding me. Coming back.
Why? I don't know. I guess that's just how much I miss him.
Sometimes, I wake up at night just to whisper his name, the sweetest name of all names, turn around and pretend I'm facing him and fall asleep again. Calmly this time.
I can't think about anything else but him. I can't imagine anything but him. I've learned to sacrifice my thoughts entirely to him and now I can't think about anything else. I hate the idea of being a slave to my own sick naiveness.
And his name- so sweet and true in my lips. His smile- the best in the entire universe. His eyes- never to look into mine. Never.
He was mine but then again I never really had him. I was his entirely but never his to touch.
And when I think about it, I can assure each and everyone of you that I will always be his. Even if I'll end up living happily ever after with someone else I will always be his. His truly. I will always belong to him- the one who stole me from myself.
I used to be so happy that I even asked gods to give me something to cry about. And they wouldn't listen to me. They wouldn't until April. In April they gave me tears made of my happiness. They turned my smiles and love into never-ending sequence of tears. If I could, if I only could I'd fly to him and beg him to have me back, and in my dreams he would have me in his arms. But of course none of this is going to happen. And of course, his eyes aren't mine to look into.
Nothing ever gets better. Never.