May's sunlight.

Since we are talking again to each other, somehow, in a sleepless night, I got to remember how we met.

My best friend fell in love with you, and I couldn't understand why. It was a role thing (which I though was pointless), you weren't that attractive and not even... how do I say? not even smart. When I used to read your words, I remember they seemed pretentious and melodramatic. I can't stand possers, and you looked like one of them who couln't even write in Spanish with no misspellings. Not to mention your robotic English...; but you still had some kind of enigmatic halo that inmediatly attracter me into your speaking. 

But I still felt curious. The most misterious question was... why did you love her? She wasn't smart, beautiful or a good roler/writer/thing. But I guess we need no reasons to love somebody at all (look at me).

So my curiosity and fastination increased as I spoke to you. I remember it was the first good thing I had felt in a long, long time. I remember that, from that point, you iluminated my life as it was sort of a dark, dusty room. Slowly, I came back to life: I recovered my interest in books and studies, I started seeing my friends back again, I stopped writing (which, as we already know, is a good signal) and I had no reason to feel down. Since I met you, I've had my own, particular sun, bright and warm as spring. You make me think of May -what a wonderful month!-, when the yarn summer is announced in every living creature.

That's what you've made for me.

I don't want to write about how I gave you a love you didn't wanted; or about how I screwed up our relationship with my stupid feelings. I don't want to mess this entry up with my loneliness without you last summer, when I unilaterally decided not to talk to you because it just hurts too much. I decided it doesn't worth it, because I love you more than I love (or will ever love) myself.

That's what you mean for me, my May's Sunlight.