I hope you remember me. I’m sorry for not writing for so long – I hope you’ll understand. Maybe you can’t even recall who I am.
But I still know who you are, and what we had together. You may be no Milan or Rome, but in my heart, you’ll always be something more.
I still remember when I first met you, I was eighteen at the time and you looked so frightening and grown up – but I knew immediately it would have been a choice I’d never regret. After I enrolled in university, I moved and took my first steps away from home – you were there to guide and support me in all the dumb ideas I had for four years. I’ll never be thankful enough for your patience in standing my bullshit.
You guided me through failed relationships, friendships, university drama and many, too many drunken nights. Sometimes I’ve felt like what we had together, you and me, was never going to end. It was a nice place to be trapped into, some kind of magical land for never growing up. It was clear, though, that we would have split up one day or another. You became too small and I became too big. And when it happened, I was ready for it – we gave each other everything and I was ready to move on. Still, I feel like I’ve never told you how important you were – thank you for all the nights in front of the Dome, looking at the police looking at us, thank you for the boring classes on that fucking wooden benches you insisted in calling classrooms, thank you for having been at the same time the crazy friend who sells pot and the mom that forces you to leave the damned bed every morning. Thank you for showing me what a hoax is, and comforting me in my sad times.
I know it wasn’t always a bed of roses, at times I would have given everything to escape your grey walls of fog. There were times when you couldn’t fill up my solitude and couldn’t understand my pain, and it hurt. But I hope you’ll forgive me for having left you, like I forgave you for letting me down a couple of times. That’s what nice and decent people do. And maybe, I’ll even visit again, when I get the chance – it will be nice, talking to you again.
P.S. Sorry for throwing up on you that time. Wasn’t on purpose.