Strange to think that I actually stared my computer for a few hours – between work, lack of electricity and an attempt to eat something – I couldn’t find what to write, and it was so clearly in front of me.

I never really saw myself as a patient person. Then again, I guess I never had it with myself. But as the months went by and as life was happening and so many feelings started to emerge, it became quite obvious. I may still not have it for myself, but life showed me I have plenty to give.

We think being patient is to not snap when something happens, to not hunk when traffic gets mad, to not punch someone in the face when they surely deserve it (even if it is only in your head). We believe being patient is not to hang up the phone to a rude person, breaking something when we are so angry it actually hurts or cry to the point of passing out, feeling everything so deeply you lose ground.

No. This is politeness. This is having an education. Which is great, by the way. Don’t get me wrong, education and politeness and respect are a must have in this crazy fucked up world. But being patient is something else entirely. Is knowing that the minute you let go, the milk will boil – on its own terms, not faster nor slowly than you want it to. And this applies to everything in life.

Being patient is giving someone the time and the tools they need so they can get to the spot you already are. Is about not rushing anything, because anything done in a rush ends up ruined. Is learning that nothing is too early or too late. And that you have a choice: you can either stay and wait and see the result or you can walk away. There is no contract saying you must be patient – you can simply choose not to, who the hell cares? You just need to be and do you. The perks of being patient is that you know the milk will boil. It always does.

I hope this is our last dance. We have been twirling the stages of life for far too long – we are both exhausted of the game we play. Let’s rehearse and finish our last act, and part ways.

I can’t remember when you first visited me. It was probably very innocently, you didn’t know my potential and I didn’t know how deep your rabbit hole goes. But you held me in your arms and took me dancing, never really stopping, but giving moments to breathe. And those moments always took me back to what I was and who I was. However, arms like yours are stronger than anything, and we would continue to dance.

Now, after so many years together, but not really messing with my mind, you decided it was time to take it over and only play the song you like. The repeated song of failure and fraud that now is the only thing I hear most of my time. How did we get here? How have I become this puppet in your hands, dancing, singing and acting the way you want me to? Me, of all people. Me, the one that once said: losing myself is not an option as I only have myself.

You knew when you could take over. You waited, patiently, all those years. Always there, showing yourself here and there, not making any harsh movement so I wouldn’t run away from you. I have to admit, you played well, my dear friend. You knew I was being carried away by a smile and you made your move.

It is time, however, for us to say goodbye. I have no interest in taking you everywhere I go, letting you become intimate with my thoughts and desires. I can’t have you taking over the things I love and cherish.

We danced our last dance. You may now find a new partner and I have found mine.

I’m bleeding every word unsaid. I’m pouring all the anguish through my eyes. Blood tastes like misery. Anguishes are a hard pang in the heart and burn the eyes.

Why I’m bleeding every word I cannot tell. Maybe I was afraid. Maybe I thought I could brush it off and continue to walk this path. But every word I kept inside my chest became a knife, cutting through my skin so it could come out and see light – peace. Every anguish unleashed became acid tears, burning and gnawing everything in its way.

How does one know when to continue and when to stop?