Short story | Dope-ill-gang-her

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Vero89 first appeared in my life on a hazy, blurry afternoon. July had hit me pretty hard with the fact that the year would soon be over and I was not transiting the so-long expected path. There was going on a critical disjunctive between the required and the desired, and the clock ticking was not very comforting either. At the light of the upcoming events I am about to relate, anyone could understand why I ended where I am.

Back on those days, I was spending most of the time sitting in front of a laptop, engaged in an endless scrolling, searching for answers I did not know I needed. I did not mind about the back pain or the forever-lost hours of sleep.

That is when I came across her blog. Vero89. For what I saw, she seemed a brilliant writer, a hidden gem. All that potential, translucent from a series of reviews I greedily read. I ended up mesmerized, and when I gathered enough courage to reach her through a comment, I felt as scared as relieved.

"Hey, I just discovered your blog! Your content is awesome; it would be lovely to talk about this with a couple of beverages in between. Is it weird that I already feel like missed you when you were away?".

She hadn't posted in a while, so I tried not to keep high hopes about her returning. Her reply could not have been more humble and comradely. Even though I was a complete stranger, Vero89 treated me like an old acquaintance.

"Hi! I'm glad you enjoyed it. It's nice to have some feedback, so I will continue to write similar things. I hope we get to cyber-know each other. We will share those drinks one day!"."

So was the beginning of a friendship that warmed my late nights and gave us both spaces to freely speak about the weighs of our daily routine. Human nature is by definition a full of suffering pursuit of satisfying social interactions, so we fitted perfectly on each other's needs.

Vero89 and I chatted for months, a bit now and then, without expectations or complains. We kept our bond safe from harmful illusions, by tacitly avoiding any real-life information. Even what we looked like could not be less relevant. I knew her deep troubles and desires; she understood mine. That is all it took for the love to unfold.

Finally, we were ready to meet. After the details were discussed and arranged, I could barely stand still without my knees trembling. I was calmed, though, when the day came. I chose to wear a pretty dress and bought some chocolates to share with her. Waiting for her on that skate park, surrounded by the dancing lights of the starting sunset, felt like the most natural thing to do.

While staring at a butterfly, I sensed her footsteps coming towards me. Slowly enough to savor every second of the first glance, I turned my head. Her eyes met mine. She looked exactly like me.

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Letter found on a patient's archive.

Soteria - Therapeutic Community Residence for individuals that have experienced a distressing extreme state, commonly referred to as psychosis.

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^{Characters and plot are entirely fictional.}

^{"To err is human; to edit, divine." - Someone}

^{I’ll give 1 STEEM to whoever guesses first the right title of this story.}