I came back to them. But it didn’t felt the same. It felt like a house I used to live in as a kid, but returning to it didn’t bring no tenderness. It was just a block of bricks that I wasn’t familiar with anymore, from a time that I can’t fit inside.

Lily was the highlight, of course. She’s my bestest friend and I wouldn’t live without her. I felt so bad that I worried her with my absence, maybe I am a monster after all. I should have never left her and her boyfriend, one of my best friends, to be so worried about me. I’m no good.

All in all, the others didn’t seem to care much. Probably because they didn’t even realize what was going on. Even if I told them, they wouldn’t know.

I love them, but I think I’m ready to live between the holes and not inside them.

It’s great since I’m about to graduate anyway. “The end of a chapter”, as they say.

It’s strange. I feel like I am constantly trying to get meaningful connections with people, but they never want to go as deep as me. I would be eternally interested in these friends, but they wouldn’t know how to care for me as a brother because they’re not used to treating friends this way. Sometimes I would say they like to have “normal”, shallow connections with their friends, being content with touching the most superficial parts of their souls. Sometimes I would say those who like to go deep, deeper than the last rock on the intestines of the darkest place in the ocean, like to think they’re still on the surface, and their little trip will take no repercussions on my soul. So I’m eternally consumed by both, overflowing and emptying myself as it is socially accepted.

I’m tired, but I won’t go away again. I just don’t feel an interest in the outside world anymore. I’m not talking about the beautiful prairies and fields of grass or about the moonlight or the sunlight on a river. I’m talking about… These people. It’s not even as if we’re speaking in different languages; we’re completely different species. The world we walk in is not the same.

I once used to feel that it was so pretty; to touch the limits of another person with such open arms that a pathway to their core was readied, below my feet. To enchant and to be enchanted, discovering on an other person the most beautiful sides of the geometry of human existence.

But to what use was that? For all the time; where I am now? Where was I?

I don’t need to ask for God to take me away and I don’t have to leave. I’ll be washed ashore by the tides of the human bender, letting the waves decide which impossible creature will receive my attention, just so it can pull me back into my watery home again.