And darling, it felt like in the awakening of his own history, in which: It seemed never to have belonged; where undoubtedly everything important had ended by not happening. In which each event seemed to be part of a foreign memory. He took the only thing he had for sure at the moment: his story; he placed it in a suitcase, and promised never open to anyone; he was going to get to know about her again. It was well worth a try; he said to himself: To be like something invisible to the inexperienced eye: To all that insensitive love, and perhaps something that ceased to be only worldly ... Now everything seems possible: A loving love, a free path. A life as if it were new. Another game of dream, in a play of charm..
Does not exist. Is not found. It will not appear. It is just one more story that they tell us throughout our lives, one more vulgar lie, a very distorted truth. It is a path of thorns and broken glass that make you look like a green meadow full of flowers and trees, it is undoubtedly a painful path that will not lead you to the right person, never, because it is not in this universe. Perhaps none. It is a flash of dreams and hopes that cruelly turned into a children's story. The correct person does not exist because, nobody is correct or perfect in the eyes of the world.
The wrong person.
I should tell you, will be the one who makes you smile every day with just two seconds, will be the one who makes and undoes your world in a snap of the fingers, will be the one who will kill your dignity and will undoubtedly be the one who will teach you the most lessons.
And one day it may disappear as fast as it came, it may also stay, but the right person will never take you through that green meadow, but through the destructive path of thorns and broken glass, that even if it does not seem beautiful will present itself as such, because with each step, light will be projected making it look less horrendous and more profitable.
There, where you can be.. Where you have the peace of mind to say what you feel without being accused.. There, where you can be.. Where they take care of you and not only smoothing words.. There you stay.. There, where you can be.. Where they check your soul to see what you like and not your cellphone.. There you stay.. There, where you can be.. Where they understand you without you having to explain yourself.. There you stay.. There, where you can be.. Where they do not tell you that you lie just to cover that they are actually lying to you ... There you stay.. There, where you can be.. Where they don't fill you with insecurity and make you want to look forward without bullshit.. There you stay.. There, where you can be.. Where there are no lies that screw everything up, where they do not underestimate you and take you for granted.. There you stay.. There, where you can be.. Where their masochism or feminism do not clash to each other.. There you stay.. And when I say there, I mean a chest, a person, a heart, not a place.. Because it does not matter if it is a square with mate in hand or the most luxurious bar in the world ordering champagne.. When they are the right person.. You are happy anywhere.
Sadness is a unique emotion. full of sensitivity, sublime and artistic, innocent and pristine, which does not undress before anyone, on the contrary, it is channeled to go unnoticed by dressing up, with the colorful attire of melancholy spilled in multiple notes; music; millions of shades; painting; bittersweet words: writing or simply in the sumptuous beauty of the teacher that few want to know: Loneliness.