The art of confusion

   Always between “If it’s meant to be, it will be” and “If you want it, go and get it”…

  This is how the red diamond feels. She needs to make sure the brilliant is OK. All the time. She needs to find a reason to get in touch, without disturbing his freedom. She puts all her efforts in acting patiently, but she would die for being besides him.

  Her heart is always in between… She even tries to distract herself, by looking for other precious rocks. But none shines like he does! She’s too lost into his smile, too fascinated by his voice, too amazed by his honesty and kindness. She knows she wants him. She knows she needs his touch, she knows she would glance at him with the same star-dust in her eyes even in another 10 years. She just knows..  She feels… She craves… Oh, my, how she longs for that connection of their beautiful minds, how she dreams of holding their hands… How she silently cries for being rescued from getting back into the dark… How she… Hopes!

   But she seems to face all odds against… He seems…  Happy like this. And she won’t break this for her own… Her wing is broken, but she can remember every little word they’ve spoken and she learns to cherish every memory made in seconds. Though she knows this does no good to her… Though she knows she’s getting deeper in the sadness’ grave… Though she knows this turns her shine opaque… But she can’t help it. She’s too… Busy seeing him in everything and in everyone resembling for the tiniest bit; too caught in tracing the glow… Even if it’s self-torture, she feels like she can’t escape it. Maybe she doesn’t really want to?

Her heart is always in between… Like a dot in the middle of nowhere, she wants to go right, but she also wants to go left; she wants to forget his shine, but she wants to keep it forever; she wants to allow herself the chance of a new beginning, but she doesn’t want to get over him. She feels trapped in a tight iron box filled with thorns. As much as she fancies escaping, she can’t find the maze’s end, all by herself. Though the door is open… (She may be too scared to get out… Her misery feels warm, somehow.) Though she sees the sun embracing the world outside, she needs that unique – brighter – light to make her find the will of recovery.

   She’s in search of her true self, but he inspires every single word she can find to make up in a sentence; he’s in charge of each heartbeat of hers; he alone can make her put some truth in smiling; only he can make her see her forgotten crown; no one else can bring her shine to surface; no other can rebuild her from ruins.

    A single spark would be enough for her to ignite and find him at the end of the world!


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