37- The truth love is what I eel for Vicki

Now we know that at least you don't have suicidal instincts - the doctor concluded. She curved her lips into a smile without showing her teeth. Then she took the glass jar on her wooden table and poured herself some water. She had talked a lot during my hypnosis sessions. She practically didn't stop talking and asked me to describe everything to her while my eyes were closed. I never told her that the woman I saw in that bar was Paola.

Of course not, my madness doesn't reach that point - I said dryly.

You're not crazy, Anastasia. You're just in a melancholic state and it's questionable to dismiss any depressive episode, which fortunately you don't have. Now… let's move on to the root of the conflict of not being able to be sexually intimate with Cristina.

Oh, my god! Has Melisa told you about that? - I asked scandalized, covering my mouth.

Let me remind you, Anastasia, that Melisa and I are friends, okay? She is also going through a problem of being in love with you and not being reciprocated as she desires - she explained, smiling. Her eyes filled with a mischievous shimmer. I stayed silent as the doctor observed me with inquisitive eyes. Despite my resistance to say something about the matter, the doctor continued speaking - Alright, currently, your sexual need is very linked to your melancholic state and you are repressing it because of those latent emotions. That's why you cry every time you're about to have sex. But we'll work on that in the next session - she said firmly. But after what I saw that afternoon, I wouldn't go to another session with her. Having so much mentally to work on made me think that I could really lose control of my mind.

To think that Melisa had a problem being in a relationship with me saddened me. I didn't want it to be like that, I was the one who tried to have the first sexual encounters with Melisa. However, I couldn't go any further, I wished to know why I pushed her away, why I desperately wanted to distance myself from her or stop kissing her before crying in her mouth. When I have relationships, I never resign myself to thinking that I can only shine with beings of another race, shooting stars like Paola and me. My skin sparkled when I was with Melisa, she enjoys it and doesn't even notice my glow as something supernatural. However, I had created a new tense atmosphere between Melisa and me, now that we had more trust, she desired intimacy and I rejected it. Melisa wanted to possess me, for my glow to belong to her completely, I gave in to her, but I realized that I was bored, every gesture, every orgasm and moan. So I decided to stop it before I had to get bored or worse, hurt her feelings. On the other hand, maybe Melisa had sought guidance in therapy to calm herself down, perhaps suspecting that it was because of Paola, but without fully believing that I hadn't been able to forget her. I was sure I wouldn't return to sessions with Dr. Mercedes, but I couldn't blame Melisa for talking about our sex life with the doctor without addressing the root of the problem: the pleasure that she didn't awaken in me. A distant pleasure, forgotten, abandoned, that couldn't emerge with synchrony, beauty, or anything that was beneath the lightness of the soul.I'm going to prescribe you some sleeping pills, take them at exactly nine o'clock every night - She began writing the instructions on the medical pad.

Even if you don't believe it, many people in this world suffer from melancholy. They just repress the feeling and don't seek help. You're not the first person I've tried to help. Saying her name out loud is not advisable. Melancholics think they are fine, they believe they are poets or artists, so in the least expected moments, they take their own lives or their reason becomes completely clouded by their feeling of loss. That's when you see them make big mistakes like going back to someone who doesn't truly make them happy, falling into alcohol, drugs or even accepting a new job that they don't like but helps them escape their melancholic state.

I understand. I really care about Melisa - I admitted, shrugging my shoulders - I'm not using her as an escape - I said, raising my gaze to meet the doctor's eyes, fixed on me like a hawk.

I know, Anastasia, but your emotions are hidden in the depths of your soul, and in those depths, Melisa feels confused. Some people feel more than others, when they lose the loved object, it is normal for there to be such a strong outpouring of emotions that you end up losing a part of your own identity - The doctor spoke with an unbearable sweetness while I felt smaller and smaller. And "the lost object" became the most ridiculous substantivized pronoun I had ever heard. Would it bother Paola to read me? How would she feel seeing that I had meticulously searched her life to immortalize her in all my poems? Her memory floated exhumed and embalmed in my writings. Would she be bored or moved by reading them? Neither of the two options made me feel comfortable. Maybe, after all, I was still seeking Paola's love through writing. Perhaps the doctor was right. But I refused to accept it. Writing made me happy and it was one of the few activities that made me happy without Paola being involved, just like dancing, painting, or dressing in authentic silk, traveling and breathing in the fresh breeze while the sun warmed my bare shoulders, always wearing a light dress or a fine fabric blouse. Those big dreams full of glory that are accompanied by small pleasures; Paola was always the reason for my big dreams, but the small pleasures were solely mine and were filled with happiness. Every time I felt like my heart was breaking, I would seek those dreams from the past and go listen to music, but music also healed my soul because it was one of my most basic needs. Writing and listening to music, bathing and listening to music, sometimes I simply found music in the sound of water breaking against my skin, even walking and listening to music. If I could smile and dance every second, I would, and in that natural happiness, life becomes lighter. Paola's happiness was always linked to my happiness. How many times did she try to make me happy? I just passed through the past searching for signs of Paola, signs of affection that would reveal her in the task of making me smile. However, I couldn't find what I was looking for. She would always tell me that when she loved, she became a detail-oriented woman, but the detail-oriented woman was always me. I didn't find any romance, just a passion that, in excess, killed all romance. Maybe she only dedicated herself to allowing me to make her happy, and she knew that as long as I loved her, she filled me with fortune. But that thought didn't console me. And what if Paola truly never loved me honestly or sought to make me happy? No gesture, no detail towards me. Truly, I couldn't find anything. The thought filled me with bitterness and suddenly my mood changed, I felt disappointment enveloping my heart. And at the same time, a certain understanding that love is selfless sacrifice made me know that even if that were the case, and Paola didn't love me, she allowed me to love her and for that, I felt gratitude and also understanding.