...and then you look at yourself in the mirror, you try to understand why you are struggling so much, to do something to impress him, to impress yourself, to make yourself feel worthwhile, to make yourself feel better, to make him see you differently. You look at the mirror and all you see is yourself giving 100 when around you he gives 10. Why, you wonder, why are you giving 100? Is it for him, or for yourself instead, is it to fill in your emotional void, that void no-one else can fill but him, if that is true at all. Or maybe you just need to do that, to carry on giving 100 in spite of the fact that what you receive back is simply a mere nodding to whatever you say that doesn't sound so quirky. You look at yourself in the mirror and you realise you are scared of your own image, of the same things you claimed you wanted, of the same strength you claim to have. He, with all his free spirit, his necessity to break ties, to shun away vulnerabilities, to architect a grand entrance and a similar exit, he is more like you than yourself. 'Whatever our souls are made of, mine and his are the same', indeed. And yes, there are moments when giving 100 is the silliest thing to do, moments when really that 10 he gives will never be enough, moments when seeing yourself investing so much in some love and some one who lives way too much in the here and now is not worth it. But then you remember those goosebumps in holding him, those kisses with the taste of cigarette and his hair getting curly on your fingers when he was half asleep after a moment of love he cannot recognise as you do and you realise, patethic maybe as you are, how much you would give for one of those moments again, when all you have is a shadow of him and your heart on the line, your 100 invested, your 10 - if you're lucky - to scratch away from a rusty chain embracing you and him since nearly one year ago - all you have is a recalcitrant 'maybe', a way too present 'present' a future which does not dare speak his name out loud and a mirror, your mirror, which gives you back, just yet another distorted image of what you wish he could see and sometimes fades away no matter how much you want to believe in your 100.
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