I almost learn to do not think for you ...

Today I'm a pendant.

I almost learned not to think about you. I still am tempted to call you from time to time, to tell you about your victory. Do not make illusions that you are exceptional. So you do not think I've gone to another country because I'm afraid to live where I can easily meet you. I would have told you this and turning your back, I would have once exhaled that strange time when you were covering up my whole world.

Incidentally, over the years spent with you, I never heard "I love you". But supposedly I was dear to you that you were restless when I was not near you.

In general, you did not talk much, most of the time was silent. I gave this your restraint to be not like everyone. That you are completely different - masculine, far from the manifestations of any sentimentality. "He loves me, of course, but he does not talk about it." He was caring, polite. And I was winding myself: "Norton, why are you words after there are things?"

Before you went, I asked you: "Say, do you love me?" He did not answer for a long time, then a throbbed proposed: "I'm fine with you. Is not that enough for you? "

At that moment, I was convinced that I was able to beautify everything, both my life and the feelings of my beloved man, and the world around me. The women of birth are painters-decorators. With brush and palette in hand. And men are clean sails for us - we paint, we paint, we erase something here and there, but we blur. But most often it becomes clear that we are not painting the real object before us, but something that is the result of our fantasy and desires. And the result is a complete mismatch with reality.

So it came to me. I do not regret anything. There were also many nice moments.

I remember how we had fun in the evening bustle on the subway, trying to get to know the behavior of the station at which station. I was wrong, you knew. I also remember the adventurous kaleidoscope in Italy, where we escaped secretly without telling anyone. Even in the work, we had not said we were going - they would not let us go anyway. And we did not care. We gathered our last money, bought tickets, took out visas, and left without thinking about what would happen after our return and how much money we would live by the end of the year.

We were in Rome, we drank a lemon, we drank with such amounts of paste, that on the fourth day we barely clutched our jeans. We were sitting on stones with thousands of years of history, we were running a common diary in which you wrote in black ink, and I was red and we tried to make love without sound - the walls in the room were like cigarette paper.

I set off with a raised head, with a slight gait. With a mechanical motion, I pushed the elevator button and walked into the cabin. The door closed and I burst into tears. I did not want you to see my defeat. At that moment, I, the fool, accepted it as a defeat: all of a sudden I was so shaken that I was still going to dissolve myself in my own sorrow.

I did not move home for a week. I smoked on the window sill, wept over the pictures, trampled the laundry in lingerie. I drank my wardrobe. I removed the wet clothes from the drum, and it seemed to me that there were pieces of my renewed, free from the dust of the memories. I was lamenting not the loss of my beloved man, but rather the hopes and plans that I gave you in your arms, and from which I was passionately obsessed. It was just a nice period that taught me many things.

All I had to do was gather everything that was associated with him and let him go.

What keeps me in the past? Nothing. Probably the habit. Or the burden of relations. I am sorry for your strength - you do not want to leave the castle on the beach you've built all day under the hot rays. But no matter how you pull it back, no matter how steadfast in doubt and indecisiveness in your actions, anyway comes the day you do what you have to do long ago.

When it's hard for someone, your first reaction is to replace it with other people. With an endless line of love stories. Ultimately - with books, chocolate, whiskey. But this is not a replacement, as we think, but a pitiful self-deception. Sooner or later you realize that it is not in your power to replace the past, and it is not necessary. It is better to remove the old garment, however much your beloved has been, and to put on a new one. This may be a yellow shirt. Yesterday, I went to a shop and bought one. Yellow as a sunny day.

Much love - Krisii

photo source - https://pixabay.com