The Internet, at least the most tangible version, has turned into a warm electronic shoulder, but that does work alike. Every day, hundreds of people write to us for a second or forty second thought. To help those in need of the collective experience of hundreds of thousands of Anabel readers, we thought to post your letters in the form of articles. That way, you find it easier when you are in the same difficulty someday. Thank you for writing and thank you for reading.
"I want to know that I have prayed for you, I prayed for myself, for us Yes, yes I did not tell you but I swear I prayed I begged you to be away from me You have the right to wonder. I mean, that's a lot more farther than the thousands of miles, you know that I do not care about the distance, it's never been there, even though it has always been in our relationship, feeling numb, and I've never wanted to I'm sorry, I swear, I did not want to matter, I thought that weight would have the feeling, that it would keep us close, that you know I think that sado I do not know what to do with it.
I'm afraid she was "us". That she was "us". We both did not know we were a bit more "we". Or better, to stay '' two ''. Or perhaps in the day, but she did not leave us. You betrayed me. You let her share us. You were afraid. I understand now why I almost hated it. Father, because I could not. I could not hate you. I did not want. Love should not be abhorred. Ahh yeah ... if I told you I prayed.
Yes, every moment, day, every night. I prayed in the morning that one day I would not remember your morning messages that I could hardly wait for and you probably did not give it the proper significance. I miss you. I prayed when I got out of the house and went to the station to stop listening to your name. Not even on the road or on the bus. Nowhere. Damn! It would always be someone who mentioned your name during a conversation between friends, or during a phone call, or when someone called someone who was your name on the street or when ... but he was not you. Even in school. In coffe. In supermarket. In work. Even everywhere ... Everywhere. In any country that breaches. It would also be a place where your name would be written. I even remember that one day in the lecture hall, so wandering, unintentionally look me somewhere. I was facing a chair with your name written on the part of her stand. Did I have to sit there? A friend took her and changed her seat. How I appreciated it. How much fun and worthless effort. Had it been so easy.
It reminded me of the moment that one day I had told him that I had seen your name written in the hands of a little boy who was holding me near the bus. I saw your hand in your written name. We were so many people in so little room that I had no where to look elsewhere, I did not have to not see her. I swear I closed it at some point. I closed it sadly. He smiled frankly. The church was lost in the memories and I felt the embrace of my friend, in that noisy lecture hall, where a little farther from us was that chair by your name. I did not want to bother. I did not want to sit in the auditoriums who had your name written. I did not want. Yes, I admit, I begged for that hug to last. And I begged praying that I no longer remember the lack of your embrace. And in vain I prayed. I remembered. You remembered me. You're in someone else's embrace.
God, how much the sucking sensation. Even worse, I have acquaintances, friends, more and more relatives who also bear your name, or similar to it. You're so far away, but you're everywhere. So special to me, with such a widespread name, so common. I prayed not to impress me. Never again! I prayed that nowhere would I look at someone who resembles you, who has the same style of dress, hair, length, and features. He was not you. And yet, I felt as if I was in the country. I forced myself not to turn her head, not to ruin the sad sight of anyone. I could not remove the merchandise just by seeing an unknown person that resembled you. Cursorlike to resemble. And I went on with that beautiful and tiring feeling of feelings. Oh how much craving. And I found myself involuntarily thinking if someone like me had happened? If at some point you felt so much of a commodity I would love to find something my own in someone else. If a girl with hair like mys had been in front of you on the road. And in the hundredth of a second you have thought that I am and being disappointed that I was not. After that, did you feel much more commodity?
But I prayed that I would not feel that way anymore. Never again. I prayed better than wandering the road rather than seeing that I was walking on the same street where I often passed, where we occasionally met accidentally. Or not to notice the cafe we used to sit together again, accidentally. Or forget that I was studying in the same university building you were studying, where I accidentally had stuck to meet you on the stairs of a part of the building. Since that day, just two other times I climbed those stairs. They are full of memories and weighs. More. I was tired ... too.
I prayed that you would not be in my mind so much, because I was enjoying a bit. The end of the injury at the end of the day, when I realized that I was not your opinion, so alone, not even the most important, or less important. I knew when I was writing, when the messenger sent messages. But you told me that the fact that you did not write me did not mean I did not. But how did I know? I did not want to be in my thoughts because I was distracted. Because I was tired of keeping alive in my thoughts a half-dead relationship. Because I was sad and craved. I prayed that no male should try to have my attention, that I did not care. I did not want nobody to try to win with beautiful gestures the attention you only had, who defiled it, without understanding, involuntarily. Probably not so unwittingly.
I did not want to care for anybody because I would remember your disguise and your negligence. I did not want to talk to me about their feelings about me. I felt as if I felt too much for you. It seemed to me that I was betrayed to you simply the fact that I heard them speak to me. But I say we may have quite different thoughts on the concept of betrayal. But maybe someone else deserved my feelings. More than you. Unfortunately. I prayed that they would not ask me for you. I did not like the "same boy you talked to me ...", or a "yes he is not yet back?" Or a friend, "is he writing today?" What should I tell you? Were any such questions ever made? Maybe, where he is known.
I began to pray for no longer coming to my dreams. We did not have to just join in the dream when we were actually divided into 1001 ways. That dreams are not about extinguishing merchandise, on the contrary. I prayed so much.
I have also begged you to be good when you told me "I'm okay" to be true. I pray that ... Not for these will tell you another time. They have been full of prayers. I prayed that you would not be my prayer. And today you are not. No more "- written by an anonymous girl for Anabel Magazine, Facebook.
