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I lack what I desire.
The empty chair in my bedroom is the enigma of my life.
From the beginning, I tried to find someone to fill that space.
Now, I remain attracted to the possibility of its emptiness,
of someone who could fill it, yet doesn’t.
Since I was a child, I’ve feared two things that eventually
came to happen in my life very early: the death of my mother,
and the unpaired destiny, a single life. It’s one of those things that happens.
Everything you fear the most happens to you in life.
From a very young time, there was the urgency of absences:
be it of a nanny, or the mother that cared for the father.
I learned, in a forced way, to fill all the empty chairs of my life
with possibilities of lack.
In Canada, years later, I remembered this affect
when I moved a chair around.
Next to my bed, that object brought me back the lack
of my childhood, and the fantasy of knowing how to fill it.
And so I became: loving from a distance – the mother, in particular.
I have always been deeply in love with my mother.
I have no reason to deny it, since it is written under my name.
And the farthest she was, the deeper I was able to feel her in lack.
Such suffering taught me the raw material I was desired to be:
in absence, I am, and is from where I’m able to speak.
Published in The Antonym Magazine.