First passion is always crucial for those who have seen it.
There were no requests to fall in love, had no idealizations in my childhood of a love, there were no dreams can like someone so or maybe so late, had no false sensations of what it would be to fall in love, besides the actors of series, I never thought you’d be my passion. I’ve never been one to cry a lot with romance movies, but now I try to hold back my tears when I think we’re as far apart as we were before. I didn’t want to bore myself with immaturity, I had plans for myself, I was always focused on following life and getting what I always wanted for myself. But you were an unexpected surprise and I didn’t know how to get out of that unknown I left you inside me, what could have been that accessed me after I first saw you. Maybe you were supposed to be mine.
You like arts and I never thought that I would be your muse and you would draw my strokes on a sheet, and I never imagined that my body, every part of my skin, would be your strokes and contours that you would play one day, with your soft touch and at the same time heavy, of a sculptor, you were delicate and at the same time intense without knowing that it filled you in a way. I thought we would follow our promise no feelings, and I knew I could make it real my life was always a mess, but after that night there was something that left us in doubt. You gave me the cruel truth, which maybe gave heart belonged to another, I gave you my truth and I said that everything was fine, I did not know that there was something inside me until it was too late, we said goodbye for the last time without knowing that it was the last time I would see you. Long months thinking about the same and only night we had, and now I know that even if I tried to change you everything would end the same way.
Nothing is expected until when it happens you do not know how to deal, you follow the emotions of the moment because what we should do, I wanted to live that again, the more I knew that the chances were less than zero, I tried my best with you, and your absence didn’t last long until you came back it wasn’t too late if you asked I’d come right away, I was denying the feeling that belonged to me and maybe to you and it lasted a year between shallow conversations and vague signs that we wanted again to feel beyond what we owe, were messages and photos that traced my mind all night, were months of pauses, and you always came back.
It was a lost passion, I came home and you wanted me back, too late, but I never got you out of my head, yet I needed to move on, I had my plans a life I wouldn’t let go for a first-time passion, I’ve always been down to earth with my desires, and nothing could make me give them up, but sometimes I remembered you even when my mind was almost forgetting you there was a stronger beat when your blue eyes resorted to my memories, when I remembered your tattoos so small and delicate, with your introverted way I knew I had more, and I wanted to know what was beyond what you showed me, I wanted more than I gave me, I wanted to find your heart.
I kept you in the memory, I put a period. So, when we put when we finished a year. I turned the page and before I even started a new story, you entered my synopsis, and my point if this time at that moment and maybe I had thought everything wrong at that moment, had something and I could not deny, you this time my final point so easily, and I was bringing back all the memories again at that moment like a remedy that would heal me from the lack you made me, but I left with all grace and you never planned to bring me back, you took our paths and now you were here again, There was blood on your hands because your heart ached to know what you left was what you wanted most.
I am not one to risk for the nonexistent passions, but you’re real and what could I do? I came back, I said I wanted to see you again, and it was not a false alarm, I had intentions to understand your plans, to understand your mind as confused as mine, I had intentions to return with my questions answered. And the time was hard on me, and you weren’t an easy bait to reach, again, we were running from a force we couldn’t control, we were being pulled to each other, we’re being guided to the core, to the beginning of everything. And even so many times, you went around between “don’t” and I “am not well,” I knew I needed to see you, and give you a light that you couldn’t see. But where are we going now? The cards are on the table, and I played it and exposed my whole game to you as my hands bled from being so stupid, and my heart shrank from being too much of a stop from me that had never been seen, never been touched, but here we are, and I wonder where we’re going? You said you weren’t the kind of person who loved that attitude, I know words and emotions like that were like thorns inside you, and I’m sorry, that no one ever helped you water and grow a lavender field inside you, nor roses came up when you thought you loved someone else, I’m sorry for your past that I don’t know but I’m here.
I was thinking of you, and your delicate point, I knew I was lonely, I knew there was no way out of that situation but at least the answers were given, and your silence was your greatest weapon and was the greatest I felt, and I could only understand after. I know what you thought and felt, but a glass of wine, a touch between the lines of my body, a sample about you that I had never seen of was enough, because you opened my eyes loves still can not see anything, because your silence became foggy, and your words would be colors and clarity to my eyes, and to this day I think from your perspective and I try to understand why my words are like pins to you, because you never gave me anything back, and I root for you one day, will remember us, and understand that I was there for you.
Luísa D’Araujo is 22 years old and from Brazil but currently, she is studying civil engineering in Portugal. Since she was a little girl, she was encouraged to read by her aunt, and one of the most important books was The Little Prince which she had a great affection for. Luisa has published a book in Portuguese, Seguindo as correntezas do meu oceano, has participated in several collections from the publisher Chiado Books and has a blog called Meraki when she published her own texts about anxiety, relationships, and is a journal of her life. She also writes for The New York Times and for international best-selling American author, Jennifer Niven, in Germ Magazine, publishing her poetry, texts and stories that are relatable to others.
