I feel like a puppet who's strings got caught up in a painful circle wire from which I can't get freed.
I saw him today. The same self absorbed individual who rather spends his time alone then being with me. Who would have thought I will wait for him. I still hope that he will change. I think of how we met and how I saw a sparkle in his eyes. I named it love, but as I think of it now, I know it was something else. A flickering light playing somewhere in his heart. It must be lost know. Not for me, the hope of seeing it again keeps me steady. Waiting for my story to happen.
I lived my life being thought about love. My family's love,
unlimited. Feeling the warmth of a hug, the sweetness of a kiss, the joy
of a laugh. Instead of settling with a realistic sensation of
wholeness, I search for breathtaking moments, butterflies in the
stomach and unreachable sentiments. The first kiss, the first touch, the
firs smile... I can't turn back the time and write the perfect
stories. I have to read the ones I have and hope they won't stop at this point.Who wouldn't have loved to have a warm summer night, with the moon lighting up the trees, a river crossing the soft ground, his hand touching her cheek, his big blue eyes staring in hers and his lips whispering love words. A perfect night of serenity.
The sound of the piano awakes me from my revery. I am still in the same empty room, surrounded by the books through which I live my story, the things that bring smiles to my sorrowed face. Love. Such a big word and yet such a hard feeling to embrace.
Somehow I think of him again. I need a change, but instead of embracing the unknown I continue to look at the damned strings. This is the last time I will be weak. Tomorrow I will stop looking at the phone, praying for it to ring. I will stop seeing his face in everyone and feeling his scent on my pillow.
My bruised wrists bring me back to reality. I am hopeful and weak...
