A WOMAN

I exist beyond you, beyond us, beyond our silent bubble.
Without you, I don't lie, I'm fine.
I don't need you to smile, to feel good about myself and even less to draw courage from your hands. I was born a woman but life has made me rock hard and impenetrable, I don't need you to test my softness of mind, my sensuality or even my sexuality. I do without you, of us, of the world: to give me strength I'm enough, I don't need someone to pull up my four battered bones after a battle gone bad. All I need to do is count to ten, mentally heal the wounds of my soul and return to the field more combative than before. I don't need you to protect myself, I was born a woman but not weak needy constantly looking for someone to save her.

You will wonder why I wrote these words - apparently harsh - perhaps to belittle you? Absolutely not.
Without you I'm fine, but I'm not happy. There is a thin veil that divides well-being and the partial or total state of happiness. I don't need you to be saved, relieved or defended from physical and mental pain: you are not my doctor, my psychologist and even less my psychoanalyst as a soldier. You are the person with whom I have chosen to share the time that has been made available to me and I have no intention of throwing weights around your neck that I should wear, letting you fight my battles and making sure that your body is invaded by my scars . I have my story, you have yours. I don't need to be defended, picked or medicated, I'm not a flower. I choose you not as my gardener, but as a silent listener, who in the darkest evenings of others, in the rainiest and hailest days, in the most distressing sadness experienced so far, grants me the art of being fragile.

I'm hard, I'm stone, I'm ice. But some nights, some nights, I choose you. The stone is wrapped in the paper of your sighs. The hardness is softened by the impact with your flesh. The ice melts with the fire you inject into my veins. Without you I would also be fine, but I would be ignorant with every shiver of happiness.

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