I’ve said goodbye to Certainty, but I didn’t want to let her go. Call me selfish, if you want. Truth is, I was not ready to release my best friend. Together we built sand castles, walk the streets and sidewalks. We cried while laughing to the point of losing our breath.

However, in that moment, I limited myself to observe, to see her further and further away. It was difficult to describe the mix of melancholy and loneliness that consumed me. It felt like watching a William Shakespeare’s Macbeth tragedy play. Death was imminent and there was nothing I could do about it.

I was almost about to lose the one who has never abandoned me. I felt like an orphan, naked that autumn night. I wanted to scream and ask Certainty to stay. I felt like grabbing her or kneeling, hoping to make her retreat. Nonetheless, my efforts were in vain.

Unlike me, she walked safely and each step she took created an even bigger gap between what I wanted and couldn’t have. It was frustrating and inevitable. Self-assured, Certainty climbed the steps of that train and entered the first carriage without even saying goodbye. I wish I could be like that, detached. But I could only wish, nothing more.

Certainty quickly disappeared within that composition. I stood there, static and terrified. I asked for a lapse of lucidity to bring her to reason, but without success. The train left at the appointed time. I haven’t seen her since then. Today, I live from past memories and a future that I wished for and never happened. The emptiness is still present. Losing our best friend is cruel and should be banned. Unfortunately, men forgot to include it in our legislation. So I had to learn to live with uncertainty and to build my castles aware that they are ephemeral, just like each one of us.