I needed to runaway and not think.
Lately I had been traveling to see him, I was traveling to runaway from his thought, I was doing everything I could in order to save things up.
I thought I couldn't just start killing feelings. At least one of the two had to keep them, in respect to all we had.
One night, in Stockholm, thanks to a honest talk with a friend, I realized that it doesn't matter how much you love. I always believed that if you really know what you want, you can obtain it. It always worked. It always works. Big determination. But some of these sacrifices can make you compromise too much of your mental health. And freedom.
It doesn't mean that the goal its not worth the effort, its only that sometimes the price is too high.
That night, in Stockholm, I thought of the Stockholm Syndrome.
In that precise moment I realized that I owed it to myself to stop.
Some cities are blessed, and so are their inhabitants.
