The day that I’m going to finally see you scares me and excites me at the same time. Every heavy step will pull me closer to you. I will think of all my dark secrets, all the bad things I did, every rule I broke. I am filthy. And you are…holy. High and mighty. My mouth will utter one word over and over, and over and over – “Sorry.” Quickly, you’ll run to hug me! As you place a jewel on my head you’ll lift my chin up, look deep into my eyes and whisper, “Welcome home my child, my princess.”
I want Sunday afternoons with you. We’ll sit by the river and watch the sun descend slowly on the horizon. The moon and stars will come out and join us. But instead of trailing back home you’ll rest your head on my lap and clutch my hands. You’ll stare at me. I’ll stare back. We’ll laugh. And kiss… Or we could just sit in silence. Lost. Gone somewhere else. Strangers catching a glimpse of each other. I’ll look at you longer than I’m allowed to. To study your eyebrows, your cheeks, your teeth. Preserved, for when you are gone again.
I looked at him as he talked about how ‘normal people’ irritate him; I listened to his speech about relationship do’s and don’ts; I pretended to care when he started sharing about his amazing persona. His biography bored me eventually. So, I put on a mischievous smirk and started contemplating. This man is so full of himself! He thinks he’s superior to everyone else, self-righteous even. In fact, he was annoyingly arrogant when he thought he was being modest and honest. What a fool. If he only knew that I wasn’t at all impressed, maybe he could have behaved differently.
Just because your love story ended tragically doesn’t mean you have to dismiss the idea of a happily ever after. Just because things didn’t go out your way doesn’t suggest you suddenly judge yourself a failure. Don’t let go of your dreams just because random voices say you won‘t amount to anything. Stop playing the victim game just because you wanted sympathy. Winning the battle is impossible for someone defeated and broken inside. When you asked for the sun but life brings you rain, don’t lock yourself indoors; rejoice with the flowers; play in the puddle; dance with the wind.
Everybody says you’re perfect for each other. He understands your immaturity, you accepted his ideology. He taught you how to plan for the future; you showed him how to live one day at a time. He taught you to be strong. You taught him that it’s ok to cry. You love the sunshine, he rejoices when it rains. You’re his damsel and he’s your cavalier. You’re living a dream world of love and romance. But you notice something‘s not right. And fear creeps all over your spine. This does not happen in real life. Perfect isn’t real. Magic isn’t real.