Angalis, narrative essay

...

But I'm fine now, I understood. I realized why it was so hard to forget: I loved pictures that I had of him, so perfect and flawless. An ideal... that only exists in my head. But the magic is gone and the image I had of him is broken. I see the reality and that's good. When we say that love is blind, it is not for nothing. Yes it tooks me time, a lot of time. But today, it's over. I forget those dark hours and horrible months. I finally turn the page. How I feel watching him today, I'm nostalgic, I've maybe a hint of regret. A few weeks ago, I was wrong, because I saw in him that the memory of our history. But not anymore. I leave behind what we've been through. I don't forget anything, away from where the idea to erase everything but I put our history in a corner of my mind and I move on. I keep no regrets, only souvenirs.

We all cry. Late at night in our bed, the morning when we wake up. We lock ourselves in our room, music in the ears, eyelids tightened, the impression that it's the end. And then the tears flow. We're all the same inside. Wonder why we're here while best people are no longer of this world. Wonder why this thing affects us and not another. And we cry, male or female, white or black, high or low, muscular or thin, young or old, big or small, mean or not, you cry. We cry and sometimes it's good, it shows everything just one thing: we're human.

This story made me grow up and now, life awaits me. I see people running after love. Me? I sit and I wait. I'm not worried at all. I'm telling to myself that one of them may one day stop in front of me.