Let’s talk. Romantic.


Let’s talk. Romantic.

I don't regret a single night when I got up for the fifth time to check that someone didn’t text me. I don't regret calling someone an asshole three times and when I was about to call him the same again, I kissed him. I don't regret that when I realized that someone didn't care about me, that someone suddenly became more important to me than ever before. I don't regret it, because even if I had wanted to – it couldn't have been different.

-You be more naïve,- he looks at me and smiles. And I look at everything around me so I could escape his eyes. I can see when people are lying. He disappeared before. I knew he was going to disappear again. With no proper ‘’hello’’ nor normal ‘’goodbye’’ as it would be a normal thing these days. And I will not regret, again, that I waited. Because if I learned something, during all my years on this earth, is – how to wait. I'm professional on it.

-If you just let me, tell you- and I shot his mouth off before he starts lying again. I’ve heard this song so many times. Too many times that I could take it seriously. Yet, after a few glasses of wine, I let him continue his speech. And even I looked at him and smiled back, by hearing all thoughts, luckily… I was not born yesterday.

We listen. They talk. And all that has been said remains between the planets.

,, I will come back‘’ should be the best advertisement for any sex shop. “Because of you”- and girls would get horny straight away. Do not forget to add “I think you’re the only one who could understand me”- and she will spread her legs without no asking. Gosh, probably I need to use my experiences in marketing…

But let's come back to the main topic.

Why you should not believe. And why others should, at least sometimes, shut up. Kids kids kids, let this old lady to take a spotlight.

Once, I landed in a new city with two suitcases. I never felt happier ever before. I know, I know – wise people would say that if it’s too good to be true – it’s probably not real. But, you know- you always believe that you are not the rule. Your life suppose to be an exeption from all other life exaples. Only two months of waiting and my life had to change. I didn't know exactly how, but I was promised much more than just coming back. Two months later, I was caring that suitcase in another apartment, where I stayed alone. No one came back. And didn't even bother to explain why. I remember that the farewell sounded somehow like this: "You are so beautiful, it will not take time to find a person who will make you happy." Some kind of painful bliss. You're beautiful for someone. That’s all, how one could describe you after half a year.

Something like this is repeating itself now, as I sit under the cypress tree, trying to hear, but not to see who is lying. It's like- I'm listening to an old podcast. Different accent. It's wise to add to the whole list what I mentioned when we met for the very first time. As if these were his wishes. And you could huddle by the head, like a teenage girl squirming -how much we have in common. We don’t. Turns out- we never did.

I don't regret that I've never looked at people who lie to me. I don't regret that when they finished their speech, I never got angry at them. Instead- I kissed their lips and change the topic. Can you be angry with those who soot the melody you like the most? It may seem that I may not remember what I was romantically dreaming of in the shadow of the trees. But God has given me not only a difficult character that one hardly can deal with. At the same time, he also gave a great memory. I'll remember all the audio recordings in my mind with all the voices in the world.

Other Romeos are just too lazy to lie. And such sloths I like the most. Who take you for the ice cream, and then cry thatit's cold ouside (even its +24). Those who hear what you desire from life, stops you with a wave an easy hand, as if suchthings no longer exist, and start telling how, where and with how many girls they slept with. It's not angry when, a fewblocks later, you say goodbye to them by saying "you're going to come from here alone." You hug those ones, wave theirhands and disappear beyond the horizon, like all the plans you created with them in your minds.

"The Japanese have a wonderful word, Kintsugi. Beauty in broken places. The belief is that the object is more valuable and beautiful with its history revealed. Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer mixed with powdered gold or silver.


Its not bad to be broken. In a way- that’s the most beautiful thing you have. All the gold around your scars makes you special. Not beautiful. Being beautiful is boring.

Best wishes for you.

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