Letter to the one who remembered after 20 years

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"All it took was one message, "hello beautiful", and thousands of memories of the past years came flooding back to my mind. Messages that, after 2008, came every 2-3 years. He never knew how much I loved him and what I was willing to do for him, but today... today, just one message was enough to leave me speechless: "...you are enough, it is enough that in this world only you love me."

And how can I love you, when our paths parted almost two decades ago? How can I love you, when I cried so much for you? How can I love you, when today you have your own family, your own children?

Can a person love two people at the same time? Is your heart so big that it holds so much love?! I asked you in the last message: "Is your heart so big that there's room for me too?!" How naive I am... I still feel like I'm 18, not 38.

Life is very strange. Years ago what I wouldn't have given to read these words; years ago I would have turned the world upside down just to be with you. Just as I turned my life upside down, the life of a student with many dreams for the future, to pursue her love - a love that was never appreciated.

Dear B., as soon as I entered the house and sat down on the chair where I put on my shoes in the hallway, my house seemed foreign to me today, as if I had never lived here, as if this life was not mine and I was just a spectator on the screen. It seemed so cold to me that even the atmosphere of the two days before Christmas did not warm me. It is all your fault. You have occupied my mind for several days, since my birthday; you have taken up residence there, along with all my questions. I asked you one of these days if you had ever thought about what our life would be like if we were still together. And you answered that we would certainly be very happy and beautiful.

You know, and I've often thought about this, that my life would have been easier if we were still together. You write to me and I remember the first moments when we met. I get angry at myself for no reason why I haven't forgotten these damn memories, and then I calm down because somewhere, once, I read that first love is never forgotten. I was only 18 years old when we met. I was happy that you chose me, you only had eyes for me, you protected me from the games we played as a social group. I had the status of untouchable and the envious and sneering eyes of my friends accompanied us on those vacations. And as if someone had cursed us, this love didn't last long: only a year, and that's because we lived in two different countries. At that time, you couldn't travel abroad without a visa and visas were difficult to get.

I can't forget the day and your voice on the phone, when you told me not to come to the city where you lived, because you didn't love me anymore. You told me on the phone, in those phone calls that I could hardly wait for, I could hardly wait to hear your voice, just like the calls on Messenger. I couldn't believe my ears. Meanwhile, during the year I had learned the language of the country where you lived, a language that I had sworn I would never learn, because I didn't like the way it sounded. I had convinced my parents to come to you, I had woven so many dreams - dreams with you - but you threw them away, trampled them underfoot. But, stubborn as I am, I came, and your parents welcomed me into their home. I have always been grateful for the hospitality that your parents showed me.

We had never shared more than kisses and hugs together. It seemed like such a sublime, pure, platonic love at times. In those few days that I stayed at your parents' house, there were days when you would draw me closer and I thought that your love for me had returned. How naive... how can love go away and come back, just like an on/off light switch. You never gave me any reason why we broke up, except for a "I don't love you anymore". For many, it may be a lot, but for me it was a little, completely negligible, because I thought your eyes spoke differently than any words spoken aloud.

But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that I started to change, never feeling good enough or good enough for anyone. I was always competing with myself to be the best. I wanted to be accepted by everyone, to be chosen by everyone. Lack of self-confidence makes you devalue yourself, to not trust anyone. But the only faith that didn't lose me and didn't betray me was the one in God, and if it weren't for God, I probably wouldn't be writing this letter today.

Dear B., you have returned to my life several times in these 20 years, with messages and expressing your feelings to some extent, but not like this time. This time you are telling me every word that I have wanted and waited for during endless sleepless nights. This time you told me the reason why we broke up, even though you loved me - a reason that today I have nothing to do with. For years I have tried to find out, by communicating with people who surrounded you, perhaps to reassure myself that I did nothing wrong. I did not love you for documents/letters, nor for any other citizenship, nor to benefit from your income, nor for various gifts and favors. I loved you because you were you. It was you who made my heart beat fast and I felt alive. It was you who gave me hope that I could get out of a somewhat bitter childhood.

Ti, B., nuk ishe ende gati për një jetë me mua. I frikësoheshe nëse do mund të përballoje jetesën për dy, nëse do mundeshe të më ofroje një shtëpi dhe një jetë të qetë, të kujdeseshe për mua. Kishe frikë nga e ardhmja...ky ishte shkaku i ndarjes. Por për mua, zemra dhe dashuria jote ishin prehje dhe qetësi, streha e shpirtit tim. Sot, kur të dy ne kemi familjet tona të vogla, çfarë ta bëj unë dashurinë tënde? Çfarë t’i dua ndjenjat e tua? Çfarë të bëj me fjalët e tua, që për ty mjafton të dish që unë jetoj, jam mirë dhe kjo të bën të lumtur? B., të kujtohet kur bëre mbi 2,600 km për të më takuar përpara 11 vitesh? Unë ende beqare, por ti jo. As atëherë nuk më binde të bëhesha e jotja, megjithëse një puthje ma rrëmbeve kur më përcollë në shtëpi dhe më the: “zemra më copëtohet pa ty, dua të të kem sërish në jetën time”. Nënqesha atëherë dhe të thashë që nuk hyj në mes të një familjeje; unë nuk bëhem dot shkaktare që ti të mos jetosh pranë fëmijëve të tu.

Por sot unë, B., nuk e di çfarë dua. Nuk e di nëse kam arritur të dua ndonjëherë dikë. Nuk e di nëse e dua bashkëshortin tim. Por një gjë e di mirë: nuk e braktis tim shoq për ty dhe, aq më pak, nuk e tradhtoj, edhe sikur zemra të copëtohej nga dashuria për ty. Sot dashurinë tënde nuk kam ç’e dua. Mallin për ty e kam strukur diku thellë dhe nuk e lejoj të nxjerrë krye, por as nuk e mohoj që sedra më përkëdhelet që ti ende më do, që qenia ime pushton mendimet e tua. Është si një shpagim për atë çka unë përjetova 20 vite më parë e disa vite më pas.

B., sot mesazhi yt më la pa fjalë. Si mundesh të më duash vallë edhe pas kaq vitesh? Dhe si mundet që kujtimi yt të jetë kaq i gjallë tek unë, sikur të ishim njohur dje? Sot, për herë të parë, kam frikë nga kujtimet me ty, nga ti dhe nga çfarë do të më sjellë e ardhmja. Kam frikë të të besoj në çdo fjalë. Kam frikë se të dua ende. Kam frikë se, nëse përballemi në rrugë, maska do më bjerë; nuk do jem aq e fortë sa dukem pas ekranit të celularit. Kam frikë se do t’i dorëzohem një përqafimi apo një puthjeje aq të lakmuar. “Të dua vërtet shumë”...këto më the në mesazhin e fundit. Sa çuditshëm sillet jeta...Unë të betohem nuk e di nëse të dua, nuk e di nëse kam ende ndjenja për ty, dhe për këtë sot guxoj të ta them, edhe fshehur pas një ekrani celulari, se ky është vetëm faji yt. Unë nuk arrij dot të dua njeri. Edhe më parë, kur njihja dikë (jo se kam njohur shumë, numërohen me gishtat e njërës dorë dhe teprojnë), interesi mbaronte sapo pala tjetër shprehte diçka më shumë se pëlqim, kur flirti mbaronte. Nuk isha kurrë gati për një hap më shumë. Ne u deshëm në kohë të gabuar, nuk ishim gati për njëri-tjetrin. Por sot nuk të mbaj më mëri; sot ti ke qetësuar zemrën time, që dikur rrihte aq fort për ty, apo edhe ende rreh...nuk e di.

You once told me: “I will love you for the rest of my life,” and I, naively, believed it. 20 years have passed and you still say it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 20 years is not a lifetime, but it is not a little either. I had been waiting for these words for a long time, but today you cannot put me in front of the responsibility and tell me: “Today you have a chance to have me, if you are interested, if you have feelings for me.” This is not fair. You cannot put this weight on my lap. You once did not give me the opportunity to choose; today I do not want to choose. I have nothing to choose. There is no more time for us.”

- Written for Anabel by an anonymous woman, for the  “Untold Stories” column  – the haven where we recount those moments when the heart wants to speak, whether about the good or the difficult, about the deepest feelings that we don't want to keep inside. If you too would like to share your story, write to us at  [email protected].