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jjhudson JJ Hudson

Thoughts and stories that have never been told. There will always be a love, magic and passion.


Romance Not for children under 13. © JJ. Hudson

##life ##writing ##fantasy ##romance ##philosophy
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The purity of love and the common pandora

You can call me whatever you want. She said in my dreams

That's how I woke up that day, to continue regretting the death of my parents, just as a reflection I remembered when as a child I woke up in my lonely ocher room, in those days I almost always looked instinctively at the windows, in the hope that a ray of light will enlighten me. Immediately, when I realized that it wouldn’t be like that, I noticed that I was living out of time.

How can a child lose track of time? I had no obligation to take into account the hours of sleep or if I had the obligation it didn't matter, the truth is that my parents worried about my disengagement for certain matters that didn't correspond to my age, especially that at the age of twelve instead of starting my life experimenting with what is accepted in society, even though it’s considered shameful, I’ve done nothing more than looking for the meaning of everything.

In my opinion nothing made sense.

However, I also didn't find the point of depressing myself because I didn't need to do what other people did when they realized they were empty "inside", I guess I thought I was superior to waste my time on it.

I experimented the emotion of the first love at thirteen years old, I felt that she was the one who’d give reason to everything, apparently it was like that, things were still the same but the ones that best adorned the garden had their own name, I attached to the idea that things without meaning, which at that moment they had it, could be enjoyed in a better way.

Sometimes I just closed my eyes and dreamed of an ideal world for me, there she was, I couldn't conceive the children’s shape that we’d have had, but it was supposed to be like that, then we would acquire a transport, have debts and keep the emotion of being together all the time.

Every day after I woke up in those early mornings, I thought about her, about my friends, and about the things that made her smile even more, I considered myself good at making them laugh. I never had a closed circle, only a triangle made up of what I considered my best friend and her, the love of my life. They complemented the emptiness that I thought I had for not giving importance to things.

It was time to grow up, my parents were happy because I was leaving the cave to discover, live and have fun, what they called normality. In order to be the reason for the smiles, I adopted normality.

Who cares about my principles if no one shares them?

We all need a reason to live. Isn't that right?

I wanted to give her everything, and I said I wanted because I gave her everything I had without expecting anything in return, I considered that taking charge of making her happy made me happy and it was a beautiful reason to live and give meaning to all the complex madness that is life in society.

I remember one of our wonderful conversations;

“I appreciate everything you've done for me,” I told her with gratitude.

“Why do you say that?” Her expression denoted a slight concern, even so she continued.

“My only thoughts are in the numbers that cost everything I want in life, I need to have so many things, I don't think you can continue helping me.

“Of course I can, just let me... just let me find the way,” I said with emotion, she needed me to rescue her.

“Do you want me to accompany you on that mountain trip you're going on? You have all set for that, haven't you?”

“Everything’s ready, but you better stay, I'm going with your best friend, who’s now also mine. You don't like the mountain and I don't want you to have a hard time, you know that you look for a sense to everything and you’ll get a headache when you don't find sense to sleep uncomfortably in a camp.”

“I think you're right,” I told her as I suddenly hugged her.

She was going with him, thus she’d be well accompanied, I loved the fact that she cared about me.

Love is good when it's reciprocated. I just asked her not to leave me on the waiting list of her responsibilities.

She was my first time in a lot of things, especially the important things, from the first kiss to sex. Even though I wasn’t her first time in almost nothing, not even in the art of love, she’ll never recognize that I’m the first, probably the only one, to have many first experiences with her. I put a lot of value on it.

Who would say that I’m now such a dreamer? While I’m writing on this paper, hoping to finally see her coming, I'm in need of a new illusion; one last chance, a perfect story, and it's just that we never go backwards, it's just fantasy to believe in changing the past.

After some time I decided to continue on my way. She told me that I was totally different, she didn't like my genuine way of being new, she needed new experiences, I was supposed to be different because I did the opposite of the orthodoxy of most people, that made me a rebel, but when I grew up that reputation lost excitement and seduction and therefore prevented her from keep liking me, because the new things she meant are the ones that society normally does and she needed a partner for it, not someone who didn't recognize its value.

I just begged for one more fight, one more lie, one more illusion, listen to an ‘I love you.’ even if it's forced and false one more time.

If love consists in begging it doesn't make sense. He wasn't begging her, she was, just like I begged her.

When I found them together, by pure chance, she was giving him what I gave her as a present, because she needed it urgently, I couldn't help following them to a hotel room, that was easy, they didn't care who could see them.

"You used to be attractive, but you were never a dream".

It's the only phrase I can remember from that day.

Maybe I’m too different and I must be with others like me, it was like a trailer in the sea, but it left me alive, she made me say that I wanted to be dead, but it wasn’t like that, I just didn't want to give more pity, I really just wanted to exist and not live. I wondered if I could go on alone, and there was only one answer to that question, it was the only decision. Stop breathing hurts, I said to myself.

A depression of this type was considered normal at my age, I just didn't understand it. What was the need to lie?

I won't go into the details of my near adulthood depression. The important thing was the consequence of it.

I lost my purpose of looking at life in a positive way, I became an insecure person and I stopped trusting people. At least I grew up and became independent, I was still the pride of my parents.

On a trip at my early twenties I was innovating in the ways of fishing, I needed to feed myself and I always liked fish. Why not to travel, eat and sell?

In my childhood, as I didn’t find a purpose to anything, I learned how to communicate in other languages, at least I thought traveling around the world would be fun. I moved to an island where many people from other countries flocked.

Among them, she.

We met at the stadium of some sport team, I was just there to see how time passed quickly. That first time when our eyes met, they didn’t separate, I looked at her during the whole game, I blushed, well, she did the same, we winked many times; together we were surprised. She was the genuine illusion I hoped to have, it's some kind of fresh air and with new mixed emotions.

I'll ask her if she felt the same.

I don't know if I'm crazy or not, the truth is that I ran after her, I failed because I didn't find her.

Every day I thought about her, I think she thought about me too, my head overflowed with excitement to find her again. I think she felt the same.

In public transport we certainly tend to share our personal space with other people; among them was she. When I got out of the wagon, always carefree without paying attention to the details, I turned around and lost my gaze as always, I accidentally found her little dark eyes, she was telling me something that I couldn't hear very well.

I'm sure it was what I've always wanted to hear.

I began to caricaturize her, to have secret conversations with her, I created drama situations; if she was meant to marry someone, I’d be there to save her.

The purity of love and the common pandora. That's how I called our story.

Once, in one of our secret meetings, which laid in my mind, I showed her my heart, which belonged to her, and if she didn’t take it, I’d break it. That's how cheesy we are in our minds, I think she was dreaming the same as me.

It's just a fantasy, I insisted.

I recognized that my wounds had healed, I told that to my parents while they scattered their ashes in the sea. I don’t regret having become independent early in my life, after walking through the dark streets, I definitely decided to move to the island.

While on the boat I’m enjoying the sea and the birds that pointed out that we’re close to the port, a twin boat is sailing by our side, it’s normal, many unknown passengers go out on deck to greet each other. Yes, there she was along with my needs of protection and love, even if they weren’t well received.

Our eyes met again, but I didn't have the courage to tell her anything, I smiled, she greeted me and even though we weren't listening to each other, I didn't allow my frustration to take away all my opportunities, she was my sunbeam, if there’s a god, she represents him.

My dreams were coming true, even though we couldn't listen to each other, I considered throwing myself into the water, for that flash of dreams; only a week had passed and our eyes have met three times, I didn't need another reason to come closer. She was one step ahead, showed me a brochure, it was the place where we’d meet.

After failing in my attempt to find her upon disembarking, I immediately dressed properly and went to the site. Here I am, waiting, now it’ll be four hours since I arrived, I’m sitting, writing along with a nice drink of liquor, I still can’t forget the death of my parents and I’m needing a company, I have a void that I never wanted to admit it was there, my parents’ company filled it, they kept it closed, now it was only willing to continue growing.

One look was enough to recognize that maybe she shared my principles, I learned that if someone begged for affection must find it somewhere else, my wish is that she doesn’t give up, when she arrived at the table I told her that she was the most beautiful person I had ever met in my life, she continues smiling at me, although in a strange way, as if she didn’t understand me.

I'm the only witness, our love was reciprocal and corresponded.

I'm just sorry that we don't speak the same language. 

Feb. 8, 2018, 9:47 p.m. 0 Report Embed 1
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