Butterflies and Trains

No, I am not talking about how marvelous Spring is, or how much I love to travel by train.

I am talking about that feeling you get every time you 'get' a signal from someone from your past or present time.

When I first fell in love I thought I would never love someone like I loved that person. Luckily, I learnt I was young and naive. Yes, I did learn to love again. It took me shit loads of time, but I learnt a lot. Or at least, I should have. The main lesson I was taught was that I needed to learn to love me first.

I left him at the train station, I got on the train, always looking back. It was a deep introspective, self-inflicted painful journey. It was bitter. But I eventually continued my path, the most important step is when you turn your head and look forward. You pose countless conjectures - you refuse to accept the situation, you try to figure out why, emptiness fills your heart as much as love did. After emptiness, sadness, even rage. I did not understand this back then, but time is crucial. Time heals. No matter how much you hate this statement. Cliches are cliches for a reason - because they are true.

Why does time heel? Because in between the time you are processing all your feelings and thoughts, you are a coin, you have two different sides. You want to know what the other is doing or feeling, but on the other hand you don't. Why inflict more pain? Why bother? It's gone, gone, gone.

And then you feel the butterflies in your stomach. Butterflies that make you feel like grabbing a bike and ride like a lunatic or sing loud and clear and look to the sky.

I found this draft when I came here to (finally) update my blog. I must have been feeling quite nostalgic.

Yes, I now have butterflies in my stomach. Yes, I'm in love.

Hold my hand tight

I always forget to come back here.

I'm afraid I am too lazy to sit and just write what I feel.

I have a lot to share, my recent trip to London and Prague, going back to uni, having a part-time job, my academic future, but I'll postpone all that for a little bit longer. Today I am sharing the beauty of holding hands.

When we are young we hold the hands of our parents. To prevent us from running down the street and being hit by a car, to help us walking, or maybe just because we are having a walk at the park. When we reach adolescence we like to hold our lover's hand to express the passion, the commitment. However, when we get older those kind of expressions disappear. You still see couples hugging or perhaps a kiss once in a while, but that sense of showing affection in public when we pass the 40s is gone.

A couple of days ago I saw an old couple having a walk with their hands holding tight. The lady was not holding her husband's arm to help her walking, they were simply walking holding their hands. I then realised, and maybe I am quite naive, that true love must be that - getting that age and still be in love. Walking down a street holding hands.

Honesty

Word of the day:

HONESTY.

Because it is obligatory, because it is the basis of everything, because it defines someone as whole.

Time for new blank pages be filled with ink.

C.

xx