This inexorable time, is beyond us, we are left in a past from which we would like just to get away.

[..]

And the wind blows from the east And the trees undress

Leaning a bit '.

And I smoke 20 cigarettes

Watching you on photos that I

I do not forget.

[...]

Above a piano It scatters my mind

even if

I think I feel good

And I hope you are happy

Like me.

[...]

I want to walk only with me

[...]

And I think we were just small steps

Going in two different directions

And if you tomorrow you were here

It would be nice to tell you basically okay.

Tomorrow is the Day.
Tomorrow he will come here.
Tomorrow he will come to see me in this magic city.
Where I live. Where I breathe.
The same city in which I read, for the first time, his messages.
The city where we smiled together.
Tomorrow is too close.
There are only a few hours left.
Fourteen hours.
These "white meetings " have always been so easy for me.
I've never been so stressed.
Yet, this time I continue skidding with thoughts.
I already know how it is going to be. I know that between us won't born something at all.
I know that we said a lot of nice words and we aren't meant to be together.
We are more than friends, but not enough to be anything else. Or better to be something true.
Pure and sincere love.
Tomorrow we will have fun.
Tomorrow we will meet at the Central Station of Milan.
Tomorrow will come to life the man of my nocturnal post, that for a whole year kept me company, Suggested me, comforted me, listened  to me,  cheered me , excited me.
The man who reminded myself of the values of relationships, of havin' a family.
The one who opened my eyes to the simplicity with which you should live. 

I do not know why I am so anxious this time.
I am aware of appearance.
I am aware of my kilograms.
I am aware of what I'm worth.
I am aware of it.
Otherwise he wouldn't want to meet me, but I'm also afraid of this meeting. 

I don't know why I would like to please him.
I know that things will not go as we imagined. 

What the fuck is going in my mind?
I'm mad.
I wanna scream and understand why I'm thinking so pessimistic.
We won't meet again after "tomorrow". But that's okay. 

We will text a couple of times to custom. To be polite.
That's all.
As they say in my country: it was nice while it lasted.
It passes, like everithing.
This inexorable time, is beyond us, we are left in a past from which we would like just to get away.

It has gone. But that's okay. 

It had to go well, like a river of emotional feelings. Inexorable passage to an
undefined destination . Although it is not yet tomorrow, my dear, I already know how things are going. It has been  a pleasure to meet you. To talk to you. To Hug you.