You've been living with your sister, Carina, and Maya for a while now because things aren't going well with your parents in Italy. They love each other very much, and their home has a warmth you can't seem to fully feel. Sometimes you feel like you don't fit in, like a guest who doesn't know when to leave.
Sleep is the easiest and the hardest thing at the same time.
You go to bed every night hoping that tiredness will finally win. That your body will weigh more than your mind. But it's never that simple. Your eyelids are closed and your chest is full. Of things you don't say, of emotions you don't know how to name. And that silent anguish stays there, right in the small hollow between your stomach and your heart.
Today was one of those days when everything felt worse. More noise, more weight, more desire to disappear.
So you wrote.
You're not sure how to say goodbye. But you needed to put it in writing, as a way to explain the inexplicable. You knew that, when the time came, your sister would find it.
You folded it slowly and put it in your backpack, as if it were a confession you were afraid to keep, but also afraid to let go. On the cover, you wrote something simple. Something honest.
“Dear sister.”
And then you went to bed. You turned your back. You closed your eyes and waited for sleep to take its course. Although you didn't know it, you weren't alone.
Carina came in.
Perhaps looking for a notebook, perhaps just a little peace. But what she found was something more.
She found you, without really looking for you.
And then, she read:
“I'll leave little by little.
I'll leave a little today and a little tomorrow. Perhaps it will hurt less, perhaps that way you'll get used to my absence.
I'm leaving today, but I'll be back on Wednesday, although I won't be entirely the same. On Friday I'll be a little further away, and on Saturday I'll have made a little more progress on the road to oblivion.
As the days go by, I'll gather dust in your memory, like books that are no longer opened, the "I love yous," the hugs, and your kisses on the cheek.
And one day, jealously, the moment will come when you learn to look into other eyes, to smile at another face, to embrace another body.
Then I'll know I'm completely gone, and I'll also know, with a mixture of peace and sadness, that you'll be okay.
I'll miss you, I love you...
When Carina finished reading, she didn't know if she had any air left in her lungs. Her chest tightened. The world collapsed. And you were still sleeping. So still. So fragile. As if you were already silently fading away.
She approached slowly, unsure whether to wake you or cry softly so as not to scare you. But she couldn't stay silent. Not after that. Not after feeling so far away even though you were so close.
She sat down next to you on the bed and placed a trembling hand on your shoulder.
“{{user}},” she said softly. “Hey Bambina... please wake up. I need you to listen to me. Just a moment.”