No Sábado

On Saturday you forced me to remember something. Something I’d forgotten and that, therefore, no longer mattered. And this thing wasn’t the scroll lock function.

22 months ago and one day I sent an email (des?) necessary and (only now I see) somewhat cruel to you. And I had completely forgotten this email by Saturday. On this day you reminded me of his existence, but not of his exact contents. I got it back yesterday and saw that it was worse than I thought.

At first I found it shocking what I had written. But I tried to remember the circumstances in which the e-mail was made. And a succession of memories, good and bad, came back to me. I read, reread and read again for the third time and, despite the cruelty contained in it, the almost gratuitousness of the aggression contained there, I found it necessary.

Necessary because he, modesty aside, is well written. He makes it very clear what feelings I had. It’s a kind of exorcism, something I needed to say to someone and i ended up finding the receiver and the way to do it. It was very hard to write and it must have been even harder for you, who read it. But I needed this. I needed to say everything that was stuck. As the Belle and Sebastian would say at the end of Get Me Away From Here, I’m Dying,

Into the windows of my lovers
They never know unless I write
“This is no declaration,
I just thought I’d let you know goodbye”
Said the hero in the story
“It is mightier than swords
I could kill you sure
But I could only make you cry with these words”

I could kill you for sure, but I could just make you cry with these words.

And that’s what I did. No regrets. So unrepentant that I couldn’t remember what I had written. If you hadn’t reminded me, the e-mail would have remained forever quiet, untouched. I don’t feel bad about anything I wrote.

So that was it. Now that I’ve reread the contents of the three printed pages (and I’ve noticed that at some points I was really right), I’m more relaxed. It was horrible things, yes, but none of that was a lie. Some things have changed, but let’s stay the way we are. It’s better that way.

To complement, St. Augustine, in The Free Will:

Anyway, there’s only guilt in case one being refuses to be what he had the power to be if he wanted to. And because then it’s about refusing a good that’s been given to you, the soul becomes guilty.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *