uncensored.

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Posted: https://livelovesmilee.wordpress.com/2014/06/22/do-you-love-him/

Original post (uncensored):

          Dear stranger,
I do not. Perhaps what I am saying seems a little, or a lot, nonsensical but you asked for my sincere answer and you should know that a sincere answer is what I am giving to you. I do not love him. I find it easy to admit or agree to such a thing and the reason why is simpler than you could ever percept. Whatever this feeling that cursed me is, it goes deeper than love. Since humans haven’t found a word for that yet or we may never find, I won’t let myself indulged into its’ charm. For love I have felt and it was not like this. It was indeed powerful, every emotion was triggered by it, but now, now it’s more than that. Now, the infinity of my feelings transfixes my body and has turned my feelings into a hunting warren. A warren of desire, seduction, empathy, vivacious feelings, feelings that if you ask me; I could even live for as eternity lies at dawn.
Maybe I should let you know, hoping you would understand my questioning this ”love” you want to name, that I have become a feathery person, sometimes even feeble. I am asking you please not to judge me or try to convince me that I should reconsider my statements, all because I will not. I am not gloomy. Do not ever understand that. I am as flippant as the hays of the sun on the sunup. You should see my expression now. A sough just escaped my lips, such a sweet and perky sough! It’s tingling my heart; this image of a demi-vierge person who craves for me as I crave for him every night. This rapture or cannibalistic need of flesh, which many of us may not understand, it’s provoking me a deep sensation of amour. I do not say love dear stranger. Mark that. I am biting my lower lip at the very moment and the hotness in the air has made my skin sweat. My humid lips have a salty taste of sweat. The hot breeze, the closed window, the feeble night, they all remind me of him. They all make me crave him even more, even sweeter. How can I make it understandable to you dear stranger?
In a parallel reality, where he exists only for me, or we might say that he is here for me, he touches my lower lip, undressing it from its’ salty taste with his own big softy lips. I fear writing to you the rest of the details so if you wish you can stop reading. If not, well…read on.

     I have a need to reprint into words the dream that fed my desire two nights ago. I was intrigued dreaming the same thing twice in one night. Perhaps, or as someone today implied, it was either my fear or desire, that broke the chains to dreaming wetly. Yes, dear stranger, wetly.

     In a former letter I have described you the expression on his face, of my saturnine man of course, but I omitted the erotic details. Those are that I am thinking about though. As I said, passion and rapture feed my dreams. His hand ran into me. As you see it, into me. Filling me completely. And oh! I would be called a liar if I didn’t admit that I loved it. More importantly, I felt it. My dream felt more real than any other dream. I am embarrassed admitting such a thing, or concerned of my own burning desires. However, I should tell. It was more than one sensation. My body was flooded. I felt like an ocean which couldn’t support any more water. Close to every imagination I have had, this dream pulled me to the edge, as all I have been thinking about the last forty eight hours is that.

     On a third long parallel line, runs my heart competing to all the above or helping them get to infinity. I do not know what it actually does but I feel it running. It has become a beast, a warrior among cyclops. I shall not lie, I do feel deep feelings for him. As I said at the beginning, it is all about some other inexplicable feeling that has not been yet named because there is no greater than that. Writing the last sentence, perhaps I stupefy my own self for writing about ‘love’ as the greatest of all, but you should know, I am not. All I want you to do is understand the difference.

     If I was a bird, closed into a roost, perhaps he would be my branch. In other words, he would be the freedom I have gained for myself. In even more words, he would be the one thanks to whom I have set my wings free to live without perks or boundaries, waking up every morning, setting my self to sleep, all with the knowledge of something greater than what we already know. Perhaps, life is all about that dear stranger. Perhaps not. You should not indulge into my thoughts, just listen and understand them.
As I said, I do not seek my cage anymore.”

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Ineffable.

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      It was an admirable view; her sparkling eyes subduing to the night’s wilderness. I wish I could find the exact words to describe their untamed desire or the color of the fire that was burning inside of her. Perhaps I also wish I could find the courage to speak but I was just flooding silently with all sorts of emotions. I felt fear and happiness. I wanted her to turn around that road and walk with me. Later that night, after giving it some thought, I imagined doing as I wished.

     She wrapped her hands around my neck, forcing her body to rise on my back. The sky was clear but only a few stars were above us. I do not recall someone or something bearing witness to her confession. It was as if no human life was breathing around us; I would only concentrate on her perfume. The minute we arrived at the apartment she pushed me against the door. I could tell by the way her lips trembled that she expected more. I ran my finger over her lower lip while our eyes were having a long sacred interaction. She breathed deeply as if she was suffocating. I took her hand and walked in. She sat on the bed supporting her back on her palms while her legs were closed, perhaps intimidated. I was staring at her in need and in a few seconds her glare was clear of that fear. I took a step towards her, dragging her jacket off her shoulders. She was running her fingers seductively around my waist and I felt as if my bones were melting into her hands. She was biting persistently her dried lip, watching me swallow my own saliva. She enjoyed the torture as much as I did. I concentrated on the first button of her shirt so hardly that my hand ran there without the command of my mind. She tasted amazingly good. It was close to midnight and I had finally found the right words to speak up but she had fallen asleep. I whispered in her ear everything I had to say and I think she listened; there was a smile on her face even in her sleep.

Nyctophilia.

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  My eyelids were getting heavier but I couldn’t persuade my mind to fall asleep. January has always been the coldest of all months. Her chicks were almost frozen. Their bloodish pink colour was obvious from far away while her sparkling eyes couldn’t get any brighter. I always believed that her name was perfectly chosen for her personality; the Greek goddess Hecate would be proud.
She was lying by my side. It was a bit after midnight. Her hand was moving slowly in my hair, playing with it until I closed my eyes. I was feeling her intense look. She put her knee between my legs as if she was a bit provocative but at the same time stretching her tired body. I felt her hand moving lower, closer to the main neck vain but I wouldn’t open my eyes. I put my right hand under her cheek while my left one wrapped her to me. She continued her soft and gentle movements until I fell into deep sleep. Even in my dreams, I could see the purity in her eyes. It was magnificent. Never have I ever seen before such an intense glare.
It was a little before dawn when I opened my sleepy eyes and kissed her forehead. She sighed hard as if she carried a great burdain. I took her face into my hands and held her tight to my bosom. We stood there for a few minutes while the first sun hays were trying hard to push away the dark night. The moon persisted a bit longer in the sky and the room was still dim. I brought her face up to the level of mine and leisurely touched her lower lip with my thumb. A little while before the disappearance of the moon we engaged into deep sleep together. The next moment she opened her eyes, the room was smelling of fresh made coffee and a little bit of snow. She half-smiled and hugged the mug I served her with both hands.

Back in time.

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It was last winter when I was rambling about that careless girl with the ponytail, right? I remember the cold weather that scared me and her abundant laughter. I used to compare them because she wouldn’t fit in. She was such an intimate person; a summer rain. I remember the first time she caught my eye. It was a cold October morning. She passed by for a cup of coffee but, unlike others, she had her own mug. She used to sit herself on the chair parallel to the exit door. Those mornings back then, I used to enjoy tremendously. I always paid attention to her movements as if I wanted to unravel that intimacy that she held on so tightly. There were times when her devastating sadness wouldn’t allow me to interfere with her thoughts. I admired her for that sensibility. She was brave enough to let her heart drown again and again. Sometimes the sound of her laughter was heard from the end of the corridor while others, I used to hear the songs she played when trying to pick up the pieces. Those moments were the most difficult for me. She was so dear to my heart but I never knew how to deal with hers. I just wanted to make her laugh but in her case, that was never an easy game.
As I was staring at her today, I tried to see through that intimacy again. She’s changed. I am not yet sure but I strongly believe that she lost that sensitiveness.
I  wasn’t willing to talk. I just wanted a few hours to watch her so I can examine again that intimacy. But I didn’t have hours and the frost had steamed the windows of the coffee place. In a few minutes, the sun had set and the misty night was once again, present to my confusing thoughts. I dreamt a bit of her eyes later today. Those were the same; pure and seductive.

Disclosure.

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    She was seeing through me. That she never knew; I never admitted that she had conquered me. I feared that she would consider me such a fragile work of art. I did consider myself a peculiar person. “You are a rare species, your mind is always locked, unknown, twisted”, she said. I was gazing her temptingly. I took a deep breath desiring to complain on her statement. In a split of a second I exhaled back as if I never meant to say a word. In that moment I realized she was right.

     My silence is a blasphemy. I neglected her, offered her less than she ever offered me; I haven’t showed her the love that weights my heart. I have a nod in my neck that makes it hard to breath. Perhaps it is my way of regretting. I do care for her, I do love her in an inexplicable way. I am tormented by her dreams, her wishes, her unrealistic world. At the beginning, that’s what made me fall for her. Her way of laughing without boundaries, her craziness and her believing in warm-hearted people. She spread a light over my darkest nights.
     On a Sunday night I was all alone. She was gone. I didn’t understand why, I still don’t. ”I am tired of fighting your darkness”, she said. I took it as if she didn’t care. I let my ego ravish my soul. It pained me but it was easier than understanding her. Days later, she came back but I fear I might not be able to keep her close to my heart. She runs freely and I can’t take too much freedom.

Day Dreamer.

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      The wind was blowing out but the sun was still shining proudly. I was tormented by my thoughts and the desire that haunts my heart. There wasn’t anything irrational about that moment, when my feet were moving rapidly keeping my heartbeats’ pace. The road seemed infinite and his portrait in my mind made me feel as if I didn’t really existed. Those moments were a dream or just a game of my untamed imagination. I was able to hear his soft voice and for a certain inexplicable reason, I smiled. Even my subconscious was laughing at me. The wind was fighting against me and a few seconds later I felt my soul drowning in its’ sorrows. I was trying hard to keep my tears in my tiny tear ducts. His figure was hanging around on the red carpet of my worrisome mind, proud of himself for being there. The look in his eyes was contemplative. I began breathing hard, almost not at all. My heart was dizzy alongside my body while climbing up the marble stairs of the campus. The wind blew tougher upon me, fulfilling my insides with a devouring sadness. I was obliged to smile in order to hide my tearful eyes and continue walking on a slower rhythm.
     He was walking by my pace, still on my mind. I would swear that his hand was holding mine all the way but I would be called nonsensical. But then; he was the only one who understood my craziness. He dealt with it fearlessly. And yes, he was holding my hand and I was the happiest person in that moment. His maroon eyes were shining as the sun that was accompanying me from the very beginning. I would dare say, he was my sun.

Matutine Agitation.

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There was a line separating us. He thought that line was just because we had united two single beds together in order to make a big one. It wasn’t just that. In my mind, the line was infinite. It was like we had some boundaries separating us; like two different neighbouring countries. Our souls won’t bond even if our hearts imply a love affair.
At the moment, I feel a vast pain which I cannot explain. More than that, I feel an unusual rage in my heart and a suffocation of my lungs. There is a nod that makes it hard to breathe. Tears run of my eyes when writing these lines and a deep depression submerges me to the point of feeling like drowning into the dark bottom of the Atlantic ocean. The fact that I cannot find the roots of my heartbreaking keeps me awake. The night is longer this way, when my heart isn’t at peace and the only noise that I hear is his breath. I looked down the road from the window and there was no soul wondering around. It seems like the drunk are filling themselves with more alcohol and the peaceful lovers are holding hands under their parfumed sheets. What about the hopeless romantics and troubled minds? I guess we are all losing sleep or having nightmares that suffocate us even when we’re asleep.
I still find it hard to explain this pain that tonight has brought upon me.  I find it healthier if I close my tearful eyes and keep them that way until the sun rises again.

Moments of hesitation.

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     A dear woman once told me that you can’t be with a person that involuntarily stops you from dreaming and she was right.  The surface of the table was rough and he was moving his fingers towards it. My eyes got lost by the movement of his hand but my thoughts were insanely corrupting me. His eyes were staring at mine, impatiently, like he was expecting the next twisting of my lips or the next ‘I love you!’. But I said nothing; Even if his soul begged me to explain myself and my heart was desperately wanting, my mind’s power was too intense and authoritative. I did the only thing that I could do in that moment. I took his hand into mine and smiled. Even at the moment I cannot decide whether that curve that my lips formed was real or just an obligation.
     My thoughts scared me or maybe my past experiences. I was afraid of us. I am still afraid of the routine. More than that, I saw myself on my knees in his behalf and my dreams or usual activities being left aside. Somehow my heart blamed him. In a way, history is repeating itself and that dries my soul.

Once Upon a Time…

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  In fairy tales there’s is a saying that heroes always win and villains don’t get a happy ending. In the real world, there isn’t a Savior, nor a Wicked Witch. In the real world, there exist only humans.
     As Prince Charming fell in love with Snow White, men fall in love with women and the other way around. But as you know, our world is more black-hearted than any villain. If love happens, it could be easily characterized, as Bukowski said, a dog from hell. As if an evil curse had fallen upon my thoughts tonight, I am blinded by a certain pessimism. I have no intention of withering your feelings so I shall call my fairy and have her make me a dreaming potion.
     I am looking at myself in a mirror and my eyes are tearful.
I feel my heart pumping worriedly. The cold night filled me with pain for the dear person that my soul’s seeking. The fact that he’s missing from me increases my blood pressure, feeding my brain with brooding thoughts and my heart with a sadness that comes from this nostalgic emotion. I’m wishing for his arms around me to warm me. I remember the nights when I was falling asleep on his shoulder. The thought of it only, that he was by my side, relaxed me and made me feel safe. I remember the color of his eyes when the tiredness was conquering him. They used to darken in an unique way that his sweet melancholy swam even more freely into his unshed tears. Even more impressive it was the way he blinked, patiently and wanting, like the world owed him and he would be prepared to wait as long as it took to be given his merits. I always wanted to believe that. Sometimes, I thought of another theory but the pain that it brought me, erased it quickly. I imagined; perhaps he is that way because he thinks he deserves it. I thought of that melancholy as his own self-punishment and I had no motive of such a cruel thought.
     Before waking up, I saw him again, laughing happily. I haven’t seen him many times in our real life laughing from his heart and every time I did, I fell in love with him even more deeply.

Sillage.

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     The night has been covered by a glossy humidity and most of the stars were hidden behind the navy clouds. Last night I was feeling vulnerable and incapable of controlling my emotions.
We were watching the city lights at three in the morning from the sea shore. There were only twenty centimeters separating us but it felt like miles because our hearts had chosen different paths.
I strongly believe though that somewhere on the road, our souls touched again, for a few seconds. Then they pulled each other away because of the rationality of our maddening thoughts. Perhaps it was the first time when we calculated the consequences of possible irreparable mistakes. At the end of the night, I felt a strange happiness.
       You see gentlemen; this was the night that changed the paths of our hearts. I knew the moment before closing my eyes that I did the right thing. I dove into a deep relaxing sleep. My dreams confirmed my reality.
       At the heart of this blustery winter I found my soul tantalizing.I was conquered by an emotion more powerful than perturbation. It was so intense that somehow led me to being euphoric. I would have easily been characterized as a lunatic woman. Even if I was that, I have to share my insane thoughts with you or at least, the ones that might hearten you.
      I slipped into an intimacy that brightened me up because now I knew the reason why my heart was burning. It was him; the viridian man. He slashed part of my past without even knowing and made himself comfortable at my heart’s side.

Exasperation.

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     A simple gesture of tenderness, that was what I needed. More than that, I think I needed someone’s gesture of tenderness; but I can do nothing but deny my thoughts. It was the hardest but simplest thing that I could do for now. I feel suffocated by crowds and desperate for silence. My soul has become a controversial place and the demons that once used to ponder around my darkest corners, are hidden behind the depression that torments me.

     The man with the viridian eyes has become a necessary variable on my life equation. There is one thing I am not certain of; whether I want to solve it or not. Perhaps the procedure of solving it scares me. A brunette man once told me that love hurts and in the end I will see a soul being tortured. I would not believe his words if I didn’t see his own soul being tortured a few months after he confessed these words to me. I remember his eyes in tears both times. I wanted to become the solution to his equation and get him out of his misery. Perhaps my intentions changed in time and I forgot what I wanted in the first place. The night I counted fifty stars in the sky in his favor, we thought we wouldn’t need anything else in the world. We were enough for each other.
     Somehow I see part of the past repeating itself. I feel attached to those viridian eyes and even if my heart implores my mind to trust him completely, I cannot. Perhaps that shows how messed up I am and affected by the past.

Diamonds and Memories.

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    7ec749468838a325e9afdde88c8c6aa7   If only the days wouldn’t be so dark! The nights of the moody November seem tragically warm. The combination of oxygen and carbon dioxide that runs through my lungs is blocking my respiratory system making me forget my existence.     The flesh that covers my bones can’t protect my insides well enough. My soul is lost somewhere in the middle of eras and memories. At first I thought I had lost my mind but as the days of my loneliness passed, I found myself into a world that I had created a long time ago. I felt confused when I realized where my deepest thoughts lied. Somehow I was found between my mistakes and rights, not knowing what to choose as a life compass. Perhaps I was my mistakes and my flesh contained everything that was rightful to me. I embraced that theory while continuing the trip to finding out what I really wanted.
     I began torturing myself, feeding me useless love, aimless hopes. There was nothing that could save me from this vacuum that I had in my heart. I questioned my choices and I began my own interrogation. At the very end I knew I had to act based on how I felt.
     I closed my eyes for a few seconds while the raindrops were wetting my skin. It felt like a river of tears running of my eyes. I needed that one person that could make me smile, his hug and his suffocating perfume. We had created a home of our hearts and now it’s all gone because of the hurricanes that crossed our paths.
     The fireplace was still illuminating the room, my cup of coffee was half empty, the rain seemed to have stopped and my thoughts had entangled with my dreams.

Elysian.

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   Her eyes were filled with tears that she obviously tried to hide from the cynical popularity while her bitter heart was beating faster and faster at the thought of her delusional and unhappy reality. Her name did not resemble anymore to her emotional condition. They both formed an oxymoron, making her a sane person that has been locked up into her own internal sanatorium. In her mind there was only one person that could set her free. The whitish walls, the unpleasant clothing and the mass of psychically sick people led her to the conclusion that she was a lunatic like the rest of the world.

     I was looking at her neutrally, trying hardly to hide my judgmental and interrogating look. I sensed that she needed space and silence. I would sympathize with her pain if she let me but I did not dare to say a word. Her sadness silenced me and her aristocratic skin froze me away. However, even if she was flooding into that profound sadness, she was notably wonderful and fearless. Behind her sorrows there was a warrior, someone who needed affection and motivation in order to get up on her feet and dazzle the world.
     Her ponytail reminded me of a petite girl that had no worries tormenting her soul. Perhaps she was that blithesome child and I was just misinterpreting her piercing eyes.

Viridis.

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There are nights we all desire more than a simple hug or a gesture of tenderness. We need a fragrance that can make us choke of its’ powerful properties. That kind of fragrance I had every night in my arms as the sun was hiding behind the navy clouds. Every time he touched my skin with his baldly lips, I felt his need of affection. I always have an image of his eyes in my mind; the way he laughs is melting my bones. His riddles are gently visible while his eyes are miraculously twisting of amusement. His lips are the last ones to show the great excitement that unfolds a depressive happiness.

     I am used to falling asleep after him so I have the privilege to watch over him while his subconscious unravels his deepest fears or desires. His arm is wrapped around me and I am stupidly smiling while his heart is beating either slower or faster than usual. That moment I felt a great pain filling my lungs and conquering my soul.
I am haunted once again by the ghosts of my past and their countenance reminds me of a brunette man. No matter how hard I tried to breath out every concern that tortured my heart, it was futile.
     Tonight the darkness is silent and catastrophic for my mental health. The wind has stopped fizzling and the air I am inhaling is burning my insides. I feel every suffocating emotion submerging me and his absence keeps my demons alive. I shall fall into deep sleep now. All I need to see is the dazzling sun to give me hope.

Vanity.

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     A fearful person. That is the perfect word to characterize him. The man wearing the viridian mask was always silent while his thoughts could torment any demon in hell. He thought that words have no meaning when you can conquer the world with your actions. Even if deep down in my soul I believed in his theories, I think of him as truly mistaken.
The sky is cloudy and the black widow surprises me with her serendipity and negligence of the revengeful heavens. The city lights are blurry, reflecting as murderous shadows on the glassy windows. The autumn leaves seem all blackish now, same pattern and nuance. The pine trees are moody because their children are gone and the dirty water of the rain has sickened them. Somehow, those pines trees can resemble to the viridian man. His seedy provision has the same effect on my disposition. Even if it is a fact well known, I cannot accept it. I wish his branches could expand more on my thoughtful mind and answer to my pitiful questions. I am being conquered and pestered by every possible word that can come out of his mouth.
The walls around me are whitish and the furniture seems nothing like luxury. The mattress has no sheets on it and the floor is cold. The window is half opened. I can see the wildness of the human souls pondering on the streets; some indecisive, others lighthearted.
The viridian man was still wearing his impersonal mask. His lips won’t curve into a smile and his eyes won’t show any annoyance. Some may say that hiding what’s torturing you is the only armor that can protect you from the untamed world. I might agree but in the viridian man’s case I fear he excesses the use of this lethal drug.

Pain & Happiness as a life compass.

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Frida Kahlo

Frida Kahlo

   There is a chance when you are born that you will know only happiness in your life. But that, despite the fact that is a simple chance, that is the deepest wish of a caring parent. Many of us haven’t known caring parents or others had the misfortune of paying their parents’ mistakes. Either way, the chance to know only happiness in your life is ‘one in an infinite’ , if infinity was countable, but still impossible. Considering an infinity bigger than other, we could say that the chance of complete, life-time happiness is considerably small or just non-existent.

     Growing up, learning to walk and speak, we realized that we loved those who loved us and granted our most profound wishes. I have not heard of a child in this world loving the evil or someone who hurts him or her. But a book stays still as the reader grows, becomes wiser or stupider. But that doesn’t matter because we are not books, we are the stories that color every page. That’s why we grow, our internal cosmos expands, travels on unknown lands, fighting, wishing, hoping, laughing and hurting.
     Is it always going to be like this? Yes, gentlemen. Always. Because as you know, when you first met love, when you first got into bed with it, when you first cried of love and disappointment, that wasn’t your choice. You chose a good evil. How is that possible? It is gentlemen. Growing older we realize that despite happiness, we bring upon ourselves pain, or life does so, but still, we cannot always fall for what is meant to do good.
     Somehow my thoughts ran to my chemistry classes. My professor always pointed out that the opposites attract but as you may have seen in your own lives, that is not a standard. We are usually deeply attracted to those who can reveal our true selves, the ones who dare living the way we don’t. Am I right? Think of it. The truth is though that we are much more alike than we admit. It’s just that the other person has the courage to do it or show it, as you have the courage to do or feel things, which for someone else, your partner, may be restricted or inconceivable to make it public knowledge.
     In this game of magnetic attractions, both parties win and lose. That’s the irony gentlemen. We chase the ultimate happiness, the one and only soul-mate, hoping that we won’t get hurt. What if we didn’t? Have you thought of that? What if it was that easy? What if the person you firstly fall in love with, feels the same way about you, no complications and no remorse? Do you think that there comes the ”happily ever after”? And if so, what then?
     I’ve got one fear, the deepest one and perhaps it is time to let you know it; I fear the day I will leave this world I will feel regrets because some day in my life I felt boredom, I wasn’t consumed. I wish that day never comes.
     There is a chance when you are born that you will know only pain in your life. But that, despite the fact that is a simple chance, that is the deepest fear of a caring parent. Growing up, we make our own fate based on the fears we overcome and at the end of the road, there is only one thing we should be saying: ” I lived and had it all. Misfortune, pain, happiness, pride and love. Now I shall have more of it in another life. ”