Sometimes I read it almost every day, it takes me a while to sleep. I think too much, and that certainly delays sleep. I swirl the feelings that inhabit me; I discard the unnecessary and keep the ones that will still bring beauty. And when everyone is already asleep, I watch movies and series, as if I don’t even have to work tomorrow; I get lost in books, as if reality weren’t as beautiful as the books I read; I rehearse hypothetical dialogues and futures, as if I can predict what’s to come.

This fraction of time, between thinking and sleeping, is like a harmonic balance of the day, the month or, in rare exceptions, the year. In this ocean that we dive into before going to sleep, captive of loneliness and melancholy, good and bad, we distribute energy to what we want, reorganize the priorities of the loves and dreams that will come and, as if it were fair, let the responsibility of the weight we carry is carried away by the inexplicable power that a night’s sleep has.

I’ve been this mixture of loneliness and need for company for some time. I confess that there are days when I thank the heavens for being alone, playing with the craziness of my internal world, cooking what comes to mind, listening to the songs that touch my heart, but there are days when I open the window just to listen. the cars have passed, or I indulge in a simple television on, just to feel less alone. This mixture of solitude, which I love so much, with this longing for company, which I need so much, is a beautiful story of years.

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I spend days writing in total solitude, digging through what’s inside, trying to discover the sorrows and joys that exist, mine and others, and drinking wine – even though I don’t drink wine very often, but I thought it would give a tone of elegance to the text. For me this time is so precious, so unique, so mine. It’s like my soul and my body are together, synchronized. All my companies, or most of them, always knew how to respect my space. They knew how to contain a little of their lack, or their simple desire to be together, just to let me fly in the words that, without a doubt, are my best friends – they never betray me. I am happy and totally surrendered when they, my companions, know how to respect the solitary tranquility that my heart needs.

A warmth made for two is a longing. Undisputed fact. Not only because your feet are warm, but because when you share the covers, you don’t just share the covers, or the heat that you have, but dreams, anxieties, worries, the inner world inside you are shared. we. And I would be lying if I said that I don’t miss admiring the loved one next to me sleeping. But most of the time there are no miracles to have someone by our side, so quickly, that it’s not just a time to fill a need. And, honestly, I don’t want another void, I have so many in here.

With the count of days, which pass without asking us for permission, we learn that the more the soul receives silence, the more it is prepared to receive love. Knowing how to wait, without filling a void with another, is a beautiful maturity. It is being able to fill the longing for a love with other loves; whether they are books, music or the hug of the company itself.

Today I sleep alone, because I chose that way, even though I could choose differently. My bed happens to be big, but unfortunately, it’s very selective and doesn’t accept just two bodies. She arguably wants two souls. And people with souls aren’t made in one night.