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...