by rantywoman

W. told me it was a “tormenta” (a torment) when I left. He has forced himself to move on. He told me, “You helped me dream, but now I am over the illusions, I am in reality. Life is routine everywhere, so why not here in my country where I have everything I need?” He will stay in Colombia. It is very hard for a Colombian to visit the US in a post 9/11 world. And for me to live in Colombia is difficult, considering my celiac.

I feel very sad. I have been sobbing intermittently. I just want to be quiet. No big socializing, just my tango lessons and preparing my food. We get this message that when you feel love, you are supposed to just go for it, no matter what, but going for it in this case feels like it comes with too high a personal cost. That my health would be compromised, that certain parts of me would be erased in a world so unlike my own if I were to live way out in his working-class neighborhood near the airport in Bogota.