Her heart pounds with each second of memory about his being. And each second she lives hurts. He is not just a human being anymore, he is a symbol of love. Or rather a symbol of being hopelessly in love. As days go by, more meanings are drawn from what is was, a crazy fool time of her life, a dark past in his existence. Questions follow her relentlessly, crowding more and more her mind with rhetorical judgements. She knows her questions will never find the answers, as she must live, like all of us, in the fragile balance of individual human existence.
The past does not exist. She only feels the shade of being in love covering her heart, sometimes squeezing it, sometimes throwing arrows deep inside it. Like a savage animal, she knows it is just her task to make it domestic, subordinated, once more. Falling in love will always bring pain and suffering, there is no doubt. This is her biggest proof. The memory of his eyes trapped in hers, the sound of a stranger's voice becoming missed overnight, and, besides all, his words, his words of love are all like dark magic spells. In the beginning there was the WORD, they say. Is that why she needs his words so much? Why cant she make her own love words to tell to her heart? Why can't she write her own love letters and just sign them:" I love you, baby. You are my everything!...". Isn't she not?!
There is no real fairy tale, no never ending children's play, no perfect love to live for eternity. Love is a choice. Love is rational, therefore. Love is based on decision of making conscious efforts to make someone feel good, to offer your time to him or her, to love them in their own love language. It is the disciplined effort to learn someone else's foreign language, to get better grades in this class. At the beginning, she will feel hopeless, like a child in the first grade, with no one waiting for her to pick up from school at the end of the day. She will make endless spelling mistakes, she will mistake words, say" I" instead of "you", or "man" instead of "woman" and so on. But, in time, she will master this discipline. As she apparently masters everything in her life. And, when this happens, she might get some love in return to fill her heart back, to cure her illness. She might. And more than that... She will forget those dark eyes that dazzled her, the flute music he used to sing for her, the whispers of wish blowing like a wind from his lips. And. in the end of it all, she will forget his words....
Romantics left aside, I feel I need to narrow this foreign language discipline down, cause there is a good resource for that. What else than a book?
The past does not exist. She only feels the shade of being in love covering her heart, sometimes squeezing it, sometimes throwing arrows deep inside it. Like a savage animal, she knows it is just her task to make it domestic, subordinated, once more. Falling in love will always bring pain and suffering, there is no doubt. This is her biggest proof. The memory of his eyes trapped in hers, the sound of a stranger's voice becoming missed overnight, and, besides all, his words, his words of love are all like dark magic spells. In the beginning there was the WORD, they say. Is that why she needs his words so much? Why cant she make her own love words to tell to her heart? Why can't she write her own love letters and just sign them:" I love you, baby. You are my everything!...". Isn't she not?!
There is no real fairy tale, no never ending children's play, no perfect love to live for eternity. Love is a choice. Love is rational, therefore. Love is based on decision of making conscious efforts to make someone feel good, to offer your time to him or her, to love them in their own love language. It is the disciplined effort to learn someone else's foreign language, to get better grades in this class. At the beginning, she will feel hopeless, like a child in the first grade, with no one waiting for her to pick up from school at the end of the day. She will make endless spelling mistakes, she will mistake words, say" I" instead of "you", or "man" instead of "woman" and so on. But, in time, she will master this discipline. As she apparently masters everything in her life. And, when this happens, she might get some love in return to fill her heart back, to cure her illness. She might. And more than that... She will forget those dark eyes that dazzled her, the flute music he used to sing for her, the whispers of wish blowing like a wind from his lips. And. in the end of it all, she will forget his words....
Romantics left aside, I feel I need to narrow this foreign language discipline down, cause there is a good resource for that. What else than a book?