Love letter

My dear lover,

It’s beautiful up here in the sky, watching the clouds from up above dancing under the golden sun. My letter starts kilometers in the air, with my words transforming into sentences under the inspiration of the music that we shared. Our love affair is over by now, but your presence in my mind is more vivid than ever, in a twisted game of faith that makes humans more appreciative to the lost possessions, than the ones they have. It was for me an incredible journey, full of adrenaline, dopamine and serotonin, the best cocktail that human body can offer, in the form of exciting adventures, incredible moments of connection and pure, truthful affection, all mixed with the best sex I had in my life. If there is paradise, my paradise is with you, on the motorcycle driving into the unknown.

My letter continues from the beautiful Boboli Gardens, which I am sure you visited, holding someone’s hand, laughing at some else’s jokes and kissing another forehead. Not mine.

I am angry that I cannot forget you, that I cannot free myself from this affection and desire that I hold  so dearly inside me, that I cannot escape the thousand thoughts bringing me back to you every day.

Oh, no, I will never send you this letter. Is too  humiliating, the strong affection, the permanent desire, this heavy chain of love which with I voluntarily imprisoned myself, all in the name of a useless affection. Such a stupidity for rationality and such a logic for love.

I am in pain. I’m like a wounded dog abandoned by his master, because it cannot jump anymore for the guests’ entertainment. I’m like a stepchild of a mother of three, but with breast only for two.

They say it is punishment. This pain is a sentence. Is the torment for the loved one that will never be your, the lesson to learn by all those women who dare to touch the forbidden men, taken by their sisters, the providers of another’s family, the father of another’s children. Is the merciless punishment, that hurts every inch of your soul.

Probably the hardest thing for me to accept is that you used me. You used me to get a little more affection, to get the adoration and the fantasy of love. To feel alive one more time before you die, before you retire, before you get expired and no pretty girl will fancy you or fall for your charms. The price peanuts, of no real value. The benefits, a lot of pleasure to have someone connected to you, giving to you her attention, love and genuine care. You used me, and I was too naive to notice it, too eager for acceptation to pay attention and too hungry for love to negotiate better my fate and feelings. You used me and after I was consumed, you just let me drawn in my own misery and pain, as the brave and stupid girls do. You are a fucking asshole and you were one from the beginning. I was too blind by your attention, your big gestures and charming style to see your dark and ugly side. Unfortunately, I love dark.

In a twisted game of fate, you told me who you are, how you are and what will happen after the romance reaches it’s a culminating point. When you fall in love you break up, going back to your family, with a mixture of guilt, loyalty and proud. The casualties like me need to find their own way back to life. I should have listened and pulled back in the beginning, but I was too proud and in my vanity, I hoped that I will not be the one that falls. In love, so bad and so hurtful.

Humiliated, with my heart bleeding, I pledge in this beautiful garden not to give you the satisfaction over my wrecked soul. I will find my way out and I promise to be happy and satisfied with other people, the ones that care, appreciate and love me.

And you, I wish for the fate to punish you, in the best way it can, in the most painful and wicked way a proud man punishment can be felt. I believe that one day we shall meet again, when I will be glowing and fully enjoying my life, and you will be just sad, sobbing the lost of what you could have had.

The plan

When we were spending this time together, I realised how similar you were with my ex-husband, not as a person, but in the dynamics of our relation.

You both have strong characters, that is for sure, but probably I could never be with a weaker man, and there’s my pick. However, what you want from me, the way you express your feelings towards me and the way you treat me, it’s all the same in essence.

You both want my joie de vivre, my naivety, my strength, my affection, a child and my eternal devotion. You both love me, in the same selfish way, wanting everything from me, feeding on my emotions, with a violent jealousy, aware of my value and of your own limitations. You both want it all, and you are both too selfish to give something of complex value in return. Ironically, your restrictions are opposite. You give me exactly what he denied me, and he offered me exactly what you cannot. But in essence, the connection is similar.

I offer a complex journey, to you, a man that can only give me half. He is aware of his lack and because he is strong, he becomes frustrated, aware of the difference between us. And because he loves me, he becomes jealous, conscious that he might lose me. And because he is selfish, he becomes weak, afraid of my strength.

Strong, in love and selfish, you take me into your arms, you make love to me like no other and you enjoy my infinite affection, my body vibrating under you and my mind connected to all your wants, your needs and desires. This is your soft spot. You lose control.

Frustrated, jealous and weak, you criticise me, searching for faults in my behaviour, you denigrate my character, in the hope that you will diminish my value, you try to make me jealous and purposely hurt me, until you see the pain in my eyes, until I shout on the streets that I am mad, until my eye pour infinite tears on a bench in Ljubljana. This is your strong spot. You gain control.

The difference between us, is that I am on the second side of the same coin, addicted to this cocktail of love and pain, which I regularly serve, despite the fact that I know that is not good for me. I purposely poison myself, just so that I can later regenerate and continue in the same way.

I have no plan for love, I never had. Love is my drug, that I can infinitely take, although is not good for me and the awakening is painful. Is the only factor that make me act reckless, against all logics, choosing disadvantage over advantage, poorness over richness, sacrifice over selfishness or death over life.