Bill Callahan
Le piège dans lequel nous tombons
I haven't said I love you today yet. But I've already told you that I love you forever. That every day I think about you, I miss you, that your smile accompanies my best memories. That is what loving is, loving you even if distant, in your life and in your choices. And we both know that your choice didn't go through me. And someone whispered to me, out of malice or malice, that fairy tales only happen in Warner Bros. and competitor movies and comedies. Perhaps they are right. God tells me no. Where there is God, there will always be love. Great loves are intensified by time, they do not die. Love cannot die, it is the catalyst for all other things. On the physical plane, where we are now, too. Love moves mountains and moves generations and species. Days are days, nights are nights, and time is a string of dynamite that burns as space moves. I haven't said I miss you yet, but I've told you about my concerns for your well-being, with your rest. And if I have already told you that I feel you, believe me. I feel like you're tired, disappointed in humans. No wonder. We only learn to be people in our own time and we understand people and motivations well. Betrayals are the gas that annihilates dreams that we thought were fantastic. Aren't all dreams like that?
When I was cloistered (and all this is already written, not here, but in another book), I still did not remember what was to come or how it would happen. These were details of the book that I did not try to understand. And then I, who was always criticized for studying everything, going to the details, I who don't know how to live in the chaos of others, had to find chaos for myself, by omitting the details. It takes me a few hours of sleep, of rest, I need to rest and get back up, but the details that were hidden swell in my brain as if they were towers falling. They showed me what I refused to see, through carelessness and omission. I have never sought perfection and there is no perfect human being, but that concept haunts me.There are dice that have been rolled by others, certainly, at this point in the championship, you will know well what I am talking about and reading me between the lines was a great predicate of yours. I consider it, in the rest of the equation. And please, forget about the percentages and permilages that are, after all, my Achilles heel and they, the others, know it, enough to know, too, that I would never dare to meddle in anyone's decision. I don't even allow any more entry into my life. The locks are in place for everyone.
I am a different person from the one everyone once knew, although for you, it is the same. I stopped giving importance to other people's opinions, I cut off everyone, so many people I believed to be chosen family members, I don't miss them. I don't miss any. With the great exception of you. You miss me every day and within them, all the clocks would confirm to you that without you, life is not. Although the second hand wants to deny me.
Yes, life continues to pass outside, but inside, not a leaf moves. Everything is quiet as I write to you. I would love to reveal to you all the hidden details, all the hidden secrets that brought us to today and the sordid way in which it all happened. It would be useless, but it would be the final point and the change of line that I believed I needed. I don't need it anymore. For time belongs to no one and works at idle, as your love has remained in me. Analogy with mechanics. I'll write about the riddle, who knows, tomorrow, because it's Sunday and every Sunday is useless and warm, when it rains outside. Inviting to purge.
I've paid someone to tell me the sordid details of what I'm going to reveal to you, just to you. Strangers and other family members are on this list. You would be astonished. I stayed. You'd explode into whys. I imploded, which is to say, I died a thousand times inside, blaming myself for, once again, having neglected the details, having valued others. And I was the one who brought so many dreams, all beautiful, all so big, all shattered inside me. Who wouldn't implode, like me?
Tomorrow, in the river, I will lean over it and the notes with these details that none of us knew, will be swallowed up, drunk by the waters at the meeting of these rivers and who knows, it will flow to the mouth, to the sea. And maybe in dreams, God can reveal it to you, without you needing to look me in the eye, read my lips. God does these things. He works in this direction when he deems it necessary. God has held me back a lot. He understands that no one else could do it and without him, I would already be far, far away from everything I know. He chose the way, the way so that I could become aware. Who knows, maybe he will do the same to you, after I have let go of those words with the vestiges of the most scabrous truth I have ever known.
Losing you was, without a doubt, the most outrageous of all. Manipulation, envy, anger, contempt for people, anything goes to achieve goals were only of less importance. There are no perfect crimes. And they say that truth is like water in oil. But I tell you that they managed to destroy us. Envy and malignity matured within them. Got. And so, just as I don't need the full stop, friends, or the belated confession of someone who wronged me, or to ask me for forgiveness (the list is gigantic and all too familiar), I tell you that it's so late and that the light in the rooms should go out when you're not there. And you're never. I must have gone out to someone albino, maybe there were albinos in the family, because I see in the dark.
I don't need artificial lights. I forgive all those who wanted to blind me, but I don't want any more light. Here, where I write to you, I stick to the details of the room and I failed in all the others. Whatever you do, wherever you are, you will continue to illustrate humanity for me. You are the best example. And it is for you that I have come. I wouldn't do it for anyone else. Therefore, I ask you to take care of your health, to keep farces and deceivers away. Everyone is complicit in the charade. Black tourmaline and unconditional love, I will always be with you. Always. Let no one dare to make a mistake with you again. Don't allow it. Do you promise to be on the lookout?
It's too late for anything other than smiling and shutting up. The days obey the mechanical analogy, they unfold like something puerile and can be tragically long. It's time to focus on other details. Receive my love.
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