domingo, 10 de julio de 2016

In a hurry for love

A little girl once asked me what was like to kiss a
boy for the very first time. I didn’t know if I was allowed to explain it, she was so small, so pure, so inocent…A little angel far away from what desire, from what euphoria, really means. From the only feeling which can take over your body, which can make you loose control.

When the legs are too weak to support your whole body, when your heart believes it is running the marathon of it’s life, when your feel goosebumps instead of air, when, actually, the air inside of your lungs is stolen and all you can breath, all that gives you life, is the taste of that sweet and bitter strong sugar liquid on his lips.

Suddenly all disappears in a single moan. These are not “bigger words”, but sometimes I believe it was better than what all teens can’t stop talking about.
For me, it was the best memory I could never have. The best gift someone has ever made me, a living kiss for all my life.

I close my eyes and I can still feel it in my mouth. I can still breath his air to clear my thoughts, I can still remember the butterflies, those killer-bees capable of exploding my whole stomach.

It’s not like I can’t get over him. It took time, a lot of time, but finally a smile with no tears crossed my face screaming that finally, every hard moment comes to an end.

It doesn’t mean that first kiss would fade away with all the feelings. That kiss was air for a time, and it
became a bleeding wound. Because in a sad way, after love you will be destroyed down to ashes. You will think you could have done more, even if you are the most narcisist person in the world. You will feel
useless, incapable of showing your true feelings. You will hear your heart breaking into a million pieces, and your pitty dignity will command you not to cry, not to clean that disaster in your chest, so no
one could ever hear you are actually an human being. It would be better to play the character of a robot, an unic piece of iron with no heart.
You will pass the days looking for something that all speak about, something  similar to all the feelings you got later before.

I heard people calling it “drunken love”. It sounds like a poem, right? It was nothing like that. It meant that a bunch of boys and if you are so lost, girls too, will play with your body and with your heart. The worst game you could never get into. Suppose that you grow up like me: the little girls and boys of your age will call you names, harass you, and you would never give a single damn. Deep down it will affect you, it affects us all. With that kiss in your mouth you will swear you are infinite, and even later that kiss will remain you your beauty, so strong that you will start thinking the same too. You will look yourself into a mirror, and you will say what that kiss said “you are beautiful in all the single ways”.

Until the drunken love attacks. And you will kiss again, just in time to save you to think you are the lamest teenager in the world.

You will feel full of life again… what a wonderful fairytale. Drunken love will bring back your darkest past. It will say you are beautiful, and then leave you alone with your heart beating faster than the speed of light.

It would swear you can fix a broken heart, and break you more in their runaway because love was to scary for someone as lost as you are. It will whisper you to love a friend, because he was there when no one was, confussing you more, because there’s no room for love in the friendzone. Then you will lost the battle, because drunken love always wins.

The wound left in your heart will become an scar. And you wouldn’t miss him, of course, because after loosing the battle vs drunken love there wouldn’t be a true love to hold on.

But thanks all goddesses you will have a scar of a first kiss. You won’t need to go back to that feeling anymore, and yet you will have that glorious scar, which will remind you all you felt once. The only thing that can make you believe in true love, even if it has passed away. Your only hope.

I was in a hurry for love, right after loosing the one I didn’t take care enough. Before that, kisses were
disgusting, lovers were too cheesy, hearts only beated blood. And I wasn’t lost.

‘Little girls like you are growing up so quickly’ I answered insted all I thought in a few seconds.  'A kiss has the meaning you want it to have’ I quoted the best lover a book could hide in, whereas I thought of my first one, all that came after, and what drunken love has left me when I was looking for myself.

'I can’t explain, you will have to find it. But it’s the only treasure with no map, and only pirates search for it’.

'Are pirates bad?’ she asked confused.'No’
I said, 'they aren’t. They are lost, that’s why they would never find their treasure. It comes to you when you are not looking for it. Like when your mother finds your stuff. It was right in front of you but you
were searching desperate,  so you couldn’t find it. Then go , distract yourself with the ball, the toys, the magic that little girls like you should have. Your answer will come when you don’t ask for anything. Never be in a hurry for love’

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