Why so?
She knew he was trouble.
The first date was a thing of pure sweetness. He was nervous. She was nervous. He was so nervous. And they talked and their first kiss happened while that song you know played on the radio.
A series of dates came afterwards. Each and every one of them showed her a piece of his world. A strange world, a world she's not used to at all, but against all odds, she was liking it.
The taste of romantic joy was starting to flow on her veins again. Day dreaming became more and more frequent. Idiotic and sweet smiles formed themselves on her face when talking about him. A part of her was back to life, finally.
Until one day, he stopped calling. He didn't answer the phone. Nothing. She thought she'd been tricked, that it had been all just a game and that he had forgotten about her in a blink of an eye.
A week passed and no news about him. Until one day, while she was having dinner, as always, in front of the TV, his face appeared on screen. She choked on a sip of red wine and turned up the volume. 'Young man found dead in the forest after car crash'.
The funeral was full of people. Friends, family, who knows. She hadn't met anyone that made part of his life, they were still fresh to have taken that step. She sat on the back, listening carefully to the emotional speeches that were being presented as a last homage for him. Happy, joyful, friend of his friends - just a few of the things that were said on that grey afternoon.
She had to look at him just one more time and so on she went, slowly walking towards the coffin. There he was. His blue eyes hidden by his closed eyelids. His light brown hair still glowing with the beautiful shades of sun passing through the small but perfectly placed window pane on the right. His hands, closed together. Oh, how she loved those hands. She could almost feel the sweet touch of them of when he used to stroke her face. And his body... What a man. He used to grab her and almost brake her ribs with those reassuring embraces that made her lift her feet of the ground. She whispered goodbye to him and walked out, never looking back.
It wasn't love. It could have been, had they gotten more time to get to know each other. They kept company and had mild converations about their past and what had brought them to today. How their minds got shaped the way they were now. How people influenced what they had become. The baggage of the past was wide open and everything was shared with the most pure honesty. It seemed like everything they lived was culminating to be spread out at this moment and that they would help each other heal from whatever open wounds that could still be lying out there and turn them into beautiful scars. Scars that made them who they were. Scars they had to be thankful for, or else, they would have never found each other.
She was sad, there is no reason for lies. But it was a strange kind of sadness. The feeling of having someone making part of your life, of letting someone in and then having them suddenly disappear from your (and this) world, was too much for her to understand. There was no warning sign. One day he was there, making her laugh with his constant mood swings and ideas and the other he was just not there anymore. And the worst: she couldn't look for him. He was simply gone. Forever.
Was he enough to get her desintegrated brain cured? I can't answer that. No one can. It was definitely important some how. Feeling that some one finds you special even after having seen your worse is some thing excepcional, it lifts the spirit and makes you (maybe) believe again. Will she ever believe and give out her heart out without raising walls around her? No. The walls are there, but maybe, just maybe, they might now be more fragile and easier to destroy. If it is right, she will welcome you in.
"Pick it up. Pick it all up and start again."
She had to look at him just one more time and so on she went, slowly walking towards the coffin. There he was. His blue eyes hidden by his closed eyelids. His light brown hair still glowing with the beautiful shades of sun passing through the small but perfectly placed window pane on the right. His hands, closed together. Oh, how she loved those hands. She could almost feel the sweet touch of them of when he used to stroke her face. And his body... What a man. He used to grab her and almost brake her ribs with those reassuring embraces that made her lift her feet of the ground. She whispered goodbye to him and walked out, never looking back.
It wasn't love. It could have been, had they gotten more time to get to know each other. They kept company and had mild converations about their past and what had brought them to today. How their minds got shaped the way they were now. How people influenced what they had become. The baggage of the past was wide open and everything was shared with the most pure honesty. It seemed like everything they lived was culminating to be spread out at this moment and that they would help each other heal from whatever open wounds that could still be lying out there and turn them into beautiful scars. Scars that made them who they were. Scars they had to be thankful for, or else, they would have never found each other.
She was sad, there is no reason for lies. But it was a strange kind of sadness. The feeling of having someone making part of your life, of letting someone in and then having them suddenly disappear from your (and this) world, was too much for her to understand. There was no warning sign. One day he was there, making her laugh with his constant mood swings and ideas and the other he was just not there anymore. And the worst: she couldn't look for him. He was simply gone. Forever.
Was he enough to get her desintegrated brain cured? I can't answer that. No one can. It was definitely important some how. Feeling that some one finds you special even after having seen your worse is some thing excepcional, it lifts the spirit and makes you (maybe) believe again. Will she ever believe and give out her heart out without raising walls around her? No. The walls are there, but maybe, just maybe, they might now be more fragile and easier to destroy. If it is right, she will welcome you in.
"Pick it up. Pick it all up and start again."
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