Just Maybe Forse Ciao

Time dissolves that which is superfluous and keeps the essential. I have learned that any love can work just as long as it is not too strong. All there is, is an obsession of a single moment that we decide to elevate to greatness. You think of her in the past the chemistry she was for you. And you choose to forget. you did not really love her, you stopped you couldn't. She was not the one. And you know it. It is just easier to hold on to something you have lived and known than to jump into something else unknown and unpredictable. Cause It can hurt. Again. It is just easier to convince ourselves to love what we have already loved or to love what brings love. for the sake of sanity for the comfort of safety and balance. It reminds me of him and his simple pleasures. What is wrong with that I tend to never forget. The fallacy of believing that simple pleasures can make us happy. Never true,  Never healthy. Whe...

The face you have depends on the light that touches you. In the picture,  in that picture. Your hair. Yes. Looks different. Or not. 'Se mo laoch mo ghile mear He is my hero, my dashing darling 'Se mo chaesar, ghile mear He is my Caesar, dashing darling Ni fhuaras fein aon suan ar sean I've had no rest from forebodings O chuaigh i gcein mo ghile mear Since he went far away, my darling You can move on from your best personalised  emotion... but you cannot leave. And when you try to leave  an unwanted window on his present brings you back. Brings him back. And he still lives. He still says the things you heard him say. He takes pictures. And he cut his hair. And you don't know why. And you don't know him. And your heart. Ah well, that has left you. And all the lies you tell when the loved one asks how you are and he cares and worries cause you are ...

The smell of coffee, some porridge with chocolate powder, the sound of rain outside. All the love I am, all the love I can. You cannot make anyone love you, and you cannot make yourself love you. And you have forgotten. Me. I am not that girl. As I give importance to the most stupid and smallest details and I dislike visibility of love the cheap trap everyone seems to fall into. I seem to like the ruins of the past where everything is hidden and everything is still and everything completes the present. And it gives meaning to love. Yes, You have forgotten me and I cannot forget what it felt like beside you. All the love I was, all the love I could. I am not that girl. I wasn't born for the trap of visibility and the present. in love.

Did you brush you teeth this mornign, or were you in a hurry? Did you swear against everything, did you lose your patience? Did you feel like suffocating for all that's missing? Did you realise already that we only accept the love we think we deserve? And that we ruin everything that is more than what we think we deserve because of that? Did you know? Do you know that I know that you don't think you deserve much after all so you cannot accept more than that? Do you know that I know that when I talked about you as if you were this great person, you were probably thinking ' Who the fuck is she talking about?'.  Does that person I talked about even exist? Of course. As Oscar Wilde wrote, it is only in true love that we see the real person we love - more clearly than he/she or other sees them - ...and when the love ends we want to trash that memory of the truest nature of our loved one by saying 'I don't know you anymore' ...

" I want painful ... difficult ,  devastating ,  life - changing , extraordinary love " Cause a love which is not worth feeling inside like a sword down your throat is  not love, I have  always thought. And I have known all the symptoms very well, when I am aching inside cause  London is swallowing me once more these days, without pity or mercy, asking more of me  than I have. More time, more money, more energy, more competition for what, I don't  know. Like all the people I have loved, fully, London that some days takes  everything of me.  As I am a leader, and I kick and scream when I cannot lead, myself, my heart,  my life.  Like all the men I have loved fully, of that blind love I seem able to give and that  remains like a sword down my throat, London as well is too big and constantly  reminds me   of how much of me is out there and how little stays inside  me. ...

After all the world I am forced to bite and swallow does not include my memory, my smile, my red lipstick. And when I am not loved back, I am sure I can leave a mark. In a letter, in a present, in a phrase. With my red lipstick. No men or women on this planet can cope with a single moment of totally romantic potential, replicate it and make it last.  Why? Cause we all are too weak,  our hearts are way too weak. 

Alyssa : Why are we stopping?  Holden : 'Cause I can't take this.  Alyssa : Can't take what?  Holden : I love you.  Alyssa : You love me?  Holden : I love you. And not, not in a friendly way, although I think we're great friends. And not in a misplaced affection, puppy-dog way, although I'm sure that's what you'll call it. I love you. Very, very simple, very truly. You are the-the epitome of everything I have ever looked for in another human being. And I know that you think of me as just a friend, and crossing that line is-is-is the furthest thing from an option you would ever consider. But I had to say it. I just, I can't take this anymore. I can't stand next to you without wanting to hold you. I can't-I can't look into your eyes without feeling that-that longing you only read about in trashy romance novels. I can't talk to you without wanting to express my love for everything you are. And I know this will probably queer our frien...