IRC-Galleria

There was this boy, who I loved. No more about that; I just loved him. With frantical but wary love. And he loved me. Whit appropriative, trusty, worshipful love. My comfort was his highest priority. When we were together, I was under all-time observation; did I feel good, was I missing something? When we were together, I felt more than good, I had nothing more to wish. I lived in a dream, in romantic comedy, in a fairytale. I felt no pressure from his side, I was free to be how I wanted to be, I was free to be what I wanted to be, I was free to be who I wanted. I suited, and I was adored, in the way that I was. All what I did and all sides of me were accepted. I was cosseted whit love and flame, that kind you only read from books. But it was real. He was true, just like me. It all was so real and true, that it would have been scary, but it felt too good to be dangerous. And I walked out. I left. I was sorry that I left so quickly, I tried to explain. I talked about how I was not ready. Not ready to be reason to someone´s happiness. But as a biggest reason, I wanted save the world instead of him. I wanted to use my time for world, instead of using it for him. And again, and once more, he surprised me whit his love, and let me out. Let me go.

Today I got postcard from him. It says: "Puntti, The sun shines, wind blows oceans blah blah... but the train of thougt must be followed. It bring epiphanies, It brings dementia but must be followed. "Thoughts rule the worl" - Ralph Waldo Emerson."

Sometimes the truth is more weird than the story. I´m mostly living in both.