22 Diaries. Story eighteen

I don’t know why I thought it was temporary.

I don’t know why I thought I would go back there at some point. I guess, it still feels unrealistic. I guess, I’ve never accepted it.

All I wanted was to be there. All I wanted was to be next to you. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And not seeing your face for so long, it feels like something is stealing pieces of my soul, until there’s nothing left.

You know, you still travel with me everywhere I go. And like a lunatic I’ve been talking to myself with your voice, hoping one day you’re going to say the exact same words.

I opened my mouth and wanted to
say words I would never say to anyone.

I opened my arms and wanted to
give the warmth I would never give to anyone.

I wanted to talk to you about so many things, yet my lips went sealed once I saw the clasped hands on your lap. In that moment I felt like you didn’t treat me like your friend.

In that moment I realized that you weren’t my friend.

I realized that I didn’t have friends.

I was alone.

22 Diaries. Story eight

Hi lovely people.

Have you ever read a fairytale where a princess becomes a maid? No? That’s because there isn’t one.

Usually, it’s the other way round, right? Poor girl finding a prince, lost princess finding her family, princess finding her purpose, queen finding her freedom. All of these stories have happy endings, there’s no tales about girls who lose everything, never getting anything instead. Why? Because no one wants to read about unhappy endings.

I put on a dress and I pretend to be a lady. I talk like a lady. I walk like a lady. I smile like a lady. But all I want to do is scream and dance on the streets of my imagination.

Is that what society wants me to believe in?

They say that life writes best scenarios. I disagree. Because if that was true no one would write stories. Any stories.

Life doesn’t write anything. It just sits on your chair passing by, waiting for you to die. Life doesn’t care. If you stand still, you’re going to stay still.

Do you believe in fate? In an invisible force that takes you to the path where you belong. It doesn’t matter what decision you make, doesn’t matter where you go, doesn’t matter what people you meet… You’re always going to end up in the place where the universe assigned you to.

That makes a lot of sense for me right now. And knowing that is devastating and relieving at the same time. Why should I try if my trying doesn’t bring me the desired outcome? Why should I put all my energy in something that is not meant for me? I only caused myself pain and now everything hurts me inside.

Someone who was born in dirt will always end up in dirt. I cannot fool my destiny. I cannot fool myself.

Life doesn’t have a happy ending. No one truly cares about you, and in the end you die anyway.

© W. Donovan

The obsession called love

Everything broke. The Earth stopped spinning. The clock stopped ticking. Time froze.

I was in the middle of a storm in my heart, which only I could feel. Now his face is carved in my mind. I think about him constantly. Why? What makes him so special?

I was standing there. Careless. Suddenly approached by a mixture of scents that accompany me since then. Every day.

I come back home and look in the mirror, seeking flaws that will prove that I’ve been placed in the wrong time sphere.

I go there again and look in his eyes, seeking affirmation for everything I felt. Seeking affection I couldn’t find anywhere else.

Why the hell did I think that he was something special? I was impressed by the power. The looks. The brains. Why the hell do I think that he is something better? Just a human. Flesh and bone.

Yet, I’m stood there, feeling unworthy of one even look in my direction, one even word said to me, a bit of interest in my life.

I paint myself invisible and I leave, for I know for sure what I feel. I’m not in love, neither do I love him. I’m obsessed with him.

The obsession called love.

Lone(ly)

What have happened? Has something changed?

Some time ago I set myself a goal. I’d been so certain about it, about what I wanted. Everything had gone wrong, though, and I was still hanging tightly on that perfectly written song, I did not allow to make it happen. I stepped back because I was afraid that everything would fell apart. And then it did.

Now I know that I’ll never get rid of fear and insecurity. I have to move forward no matter what.

Walking along the paths of my broken dreams, I’ve felt lonely. I felt like I needed someone next to me. Just to hold me. That’s all…

Even though I was always lost and always alone with my thoughts, I enjoyed my solitude. I’ve been on my own since I remember. I don’t mind it. I am my own best friend.

But lately… I wished some company. Someone I could watch the sunrises with. Someone I could hug with on the sofa while watching a movie.

Then I longed for him more than ever.

I don’t know what’s happening to me.

And I don’t like it.

Once

There once was a boy, who climbed a hill every morning to see the sunrise. He was sat on a bench watching the sun warm up the earth. I asked him if he wasn’t tired and bored of watching the same thing every day. He told me that he wouldn’t ever be bored of something that gave him life. I didn’t understand what he meant.

So, the other day I woke up early in the morning to join the boy in watching the sunrise, as I still wasn’t sure what all that was about. I climbed the hill, catching my breath and then, exhausted, I sat on the bench next to the boy. We were sitting in silence, watching the first rays breaking the horizon.

The next day I was so excited to see it again that I almost ran up the hill. But when I reached the bench I noticed that it was empty. The sun was ready to rise, and there was nobody to watch it apart from me. As I sat on the bench I found a notebook left behind. I opened it. Then I understood…

Only

You look at me. And what do you see?

You see what you want to see. You create the image that you want to create. You’ve already made up your mind about me.

And when I suddenly speak up, you’re surprised because you thought I could only politely nod my head with agreement.

You’re surprised when I climb a mountain because the look on my face clearly indicated that I’d been lost in woods.

And you’re shocked when I cover my hands with dirt because you thought the only thing I could do was to put a lipstick on.

I’ve given everything to the world, not expecting anything in return, only to become a person that you cannot see.

How many years have I been here? Where have I been before? How did they find me, if I’d been covered up by snow?

I only grow on the land that I’ve been allied to. When you pull me out, there is nothing to quench my thirst. I wither.

wise are the witches

Why didn’t you kiss me?

Once again, she went for a long walk, wanting to think things through, wanting to run away from everything she felt. But walking wasn’t helping anymore. There were questions in her head she wouldn’t ever get rid off.

How do you know that your decisions are right? You shake your hand with a person who has been a stranger to you, yet you two have everything in common. Waiting for them to speak up first, you let them go. Why don’t you speak up first?

Standing on a hill and looking at a town that used to be his, she can’t help but think about the only man she fell in love with. It’s been so many years and she still remembered his smile.

‘Why didn’t you kiss me?’ she asked, staring down the valley, knowing he must be somewhere, hoping he hears her words.

Would have her life been easier, if he’d kissed her? Would have she been less confused, if he’d kissed her? Would have she been happier, if he’d kissed her? Would have anything changed, if he’d kissed her?

‘Why didn’t he kiss me?’ she asked again, but there was no answer. Only the wind blew in her face, hurting her skin, throwing leaves at he feet.

letters: Father

You’ve never been in my life, so don’t expect me to suddenly want you to be here.
Tell me again what you are for me, and I’ll open this book in which there’s no word about you.
Forgive me, but I don’t feel that I’m losing something.

© W. Donovan