Yesterday I said, hopefully, my last goodbye to her.

We were too incompatible. She was made of synapses and I am made of flesh and bone; and even though she was the most beautiful thing I’ve had the chance to be loved by, the only thing she made me feel was sad and alone.

Yes, I’m talking about the girl in my dreams. I usually think of her as Ms. Moon, but looking back, I’d say she’s more of a mistress—a never-forgiving but always-present mistress that made every single one of my relationships fail. Of course, she isn’t the only reason why they failed, but she surely was always a part of it.

I must be truthful to our story: she was good for me. She really was. She was like a ghost that came and went to haunt my heart, just to make me feel ethereal. I could be dating someone that had nothing to do with me, and she would make that person look like a shining star. But the problem was that she demanded too high a price, for the girl I now saw as a true star would forever lose their true light in my eyes. For those of you that didn’t understand that corny fucking phrase I just said, it means: I wasn’t falling in love with the girls I met; I was falling in love with the idealization that I had of them.

And oh boy, let me tell you, if you let this ghost mistress take space in your life—that means, if you build up a character for someone to perform—that someone will constantly clash with the role you gave them. And with that comes the disillusion.
What will happen is that they’ll think you’re a crazy, manipulative bastard that is boring as fuck, since you spend more time with your own imagination, and you’ll:

1. Think that there must be something inherently wrong with you because you can’t see that the character isn’t the actual person; and the logical conclusion to not being wanted by the role perfectly designed to suit your needs is that you’re truly disgraceful.
2. Be resentful that all of a sudden, that person that seemed to be in love with you just dismissed you like you never meant anything to them. And that happens because you couldn’t actually see that you weren’t at all interested in them; and the “loving” you gave to that person quickly becomes tiring for them, since it’s not actually given to them because of who they are, but because it is in the script.

So, on the 1st of December, 2020, I had to say goodbye (on a side note, I still feel like she’ll come back—she never was the chill type—but I’ll keep you updated) to this ghost lover of mine to search for a real one. And I’ll leave you with this sentence:

If you want to have love in your life,
stop looking at the moon.
Motherfucker.

I really didn’t want my first post to be about my love life, but it is what it is. And if I’m being honest, I don’t care enough to force it to be another way. See ya later!