Invented love

Here I am in another table with laughter in half... Look to my side and I feel an immense longing, crazy, helpless and even cynical... 
Longing for something... or someone, I do not know... 
Maybe longing for me, for some true love that lasted a second ... 
My friends love me. But do they know that I'm dying of laughing now, but soon I am going to die of crying? It always happens...
And I, again, look to the side dying of longing for this thing I do not know what is. This thing that may be love...
I hate all cheap loves, loves that don't last, and "no loves" that I invented just to skip a week without pain... 
Each week without pain that pass, I seem to accumulate a lifetime of pain... 
I need to stop, to wait... But loneliness hurts and I go on inventing characters... 
I hate my weakness in deceiving me. I invent love, yes,  and it hurts to admit it. But it is because I can not stand not putting a face to my longing... 
It's all in half, but at least my fantasy is full... while it lasts... 
In the rough, dry and quiet end is always the same... I here, wanting to cry, wanting to lie about life just to believe in it... 
Then I lie down and think of pretty little things, listening to music... 
And before I can realize, I fall asleep...

Tati Bernardi