Memories and ideals …

I don’t think I’ve ever had a real first love as a young woman. When I was a teenager and even much older, I used to think that I was in love with some of my bullies. How strange; maybe I was hoping to be more than what they decided I was, hoping for a happy ending, but I already was enough—that’s why I attracted them in the first place. I just didn’t know it because I was too nice and soulful to understand what I did not feel the need to engage with: the unnecessary hostility they enjoyed.

I kept loving the wrong people for a long time, and now that I know the truth about love, I am absolutely not impressed by the self-contentment and misplaced pride of intrusive and abusive characters. I like courage and poise; I like real strength. Funny, I picture Chris Hemsworth in my head when I review the best qualities of a man, not only because he is handsome but because he is charming. His beauty is a reflection of the way he is with people, balanced. The way he plays with his kids and makes one with the sea as they dive into it as a family. He is so in sync with his wife; she seems like a happy woman who found a compatible partner for life.

Although, yes, there was a boy with beautiful green eyes I used to meet at the beach when I was a little girl. He was sweet, and our encounters were pure moments of joy—just exploring nature together, examining every little creature, trying to catch small octopuses and fish at the shore, running around, and laughing, not talking much. I think that taught me that love is when you feel free and happy to be with someone, when you feel fulfilled and lucky, like earth is the best place to be, like time has stopped.

One early morning, I went to meet him at our spot as usual, but he was not there; vacations were over. I just looked at the sea alone; I was not sad. I knew summer was the best time; I thought we would meet again the next year, but we did not. I will never forget how his face lit up each time he saw me, how cute his smile was, his curly hair. My friend for a few unforgettable days was a poet, a good guy, polite and gentle. I hope life was good to him, that he met his other half, had a family. Maybe his kids played or are playing at that same beach in my beautiful home country. Maybe, maybe.

I forgot all about real love as I grew up; hardship makes you abandon your own ship to get lost in gloomy scenarios. The bad energy you allow into your life without knowing because you’re hurting attracts worse bad energy, and sometimes it takes forever to become stronger than ever. You finally end up becoming the ship and not just an overwhelmed passenger. At least, I know now that I will never again compromise reality for a hurtful illusion to fill the void. Maybe love is just a crazy wish, and I was never a lucky woman, but at least I am at last seriously at peace with my ideals. That means that I am far from being desperate for love, and I don’t need to play bad games.

I’ve seen more sad life stories than mine; I had good times, plenty, and I am still alive even though life is very difficult right now. Hey, a charming hero will eventually come out of my screenplays to take me to a dance, like a brave and charming beast with a conscience. He will bow to me, and I will not be deceived; then, a delivery guy will bring me a sea of roses because that’s what I want and nothing less. I cried a river of sad tears in the past; I have none left. I need to laugh a lot and be dazzled like a goddess. I need to be swept off my feet.

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