Turning my back on you

The same thing always happens to me: I chase something, somebody, I desire them desperately, I wait patiently, I build, understand, accept, wait, hope, wait, stay strong, wait and then I go away.
Yes, I go away in the same way I arrived, in the same way I give you all, I understand you against any good sense, in the same way I accept all kinds of reasons and I credit every signal, in the same way you find me exactly where you left me, or I don’t change my mind on my dedication. Well, exactly in this same way, at a certain point, I decide to love myself and to go away.
It is not an act of spite, no tactic, no strategy, it’s only that I give you everything and then I go away, turning my back on you.
I don’t really know if it is right or wrong, normal or strange, wise or rash.
I know that, after giving you all, it’s my survival instinct that let me go away.
And I remember each of those few but legendary times in which I went away, those exact moments in which I realized the limit between conviction and inaccuracy, between dedication and obsession, between opportune and worthless. In those moments, it happens that I succeed in looking at myself from the outside for a totally detached instant in which I watch the scene as in a movie, in a cinema seat, with the right light, the right vignetting effect and, with the most seraphic calm, I tell myself “Valentina, what are you doing? Stop it.”
A last gaze and then I go away, turning my back on you.
Fade-out.
It goes the same when I decide to love myself, when I love myself much more then the person or situation, which is the object of my dedication.
Generally, they do not expect my reaction and are dumbfounded.
And – be clear about it – this is not the reason why I do it, but you should see their faces in that moment!
And from that moment on, I’m unmoving. Everything made me waver until a moment before doesn’t upset me anymore, I notice it but I’m not upset.
And, for me, their attempts to restore our relationship is a mere non-acceptance of the lost consideration, rather than of the lost person.
I have never believed, not even remotely, that you realize to love somebody when you lose them.
C’mon, it’s bullshit! Who invented it? A coward, I think.
I know how much I care of something or somebody immediately, in the same moment I get in touch with them: I feel everything, I perceive everything, I love everything.
I don’t need to lose somebody to understand it: how much important it was has been clear to me in every moment, from the first impact to the separation.