The Day You'll Find Me

I've got a ticket to your concert today.

You've been travelling half the world to meet me. You just don't know it yet. But I do. I do.

As I step into the concert hall, my knees begin to melt slowly. When I finally reach my seat, my body is already quivering from head to toe. This is the moment I've been waiting for all my life.

I couldn't have chosen a better spot. I'm right in front of the stage, merely two meters away from where you're going to play your guitar like no one else has ever played before.

The lights fade away and your band enters the stage in a thunderous burst of applause. Everyone is shouting the lead singer's name but I cannot see anything but you in front of my teary eyes.

I'm watching you as you approach with your bass guitar held tightly in your left hand. Your shy brown eyes look down at the floor, avoiding any possible eye contact and your skin is so incredibly pale that you seem to be on the verge of losing your conscience. With your curvy reddish lips and messy silky dark hair, you resemble a romantic poet caught up in a world where no one could possibly understand him. I cannot take my eyes off of you, for I've never seen so much sadness and so much beauty in one man before.

The first songs are some of your most popular singles. The whole concert hall vibrates with guitar riffs and drum beats. The audience is dazzled by the performance, but I am too lost in your music to hear them out. I am lustfully breathing your rhythmic bass sounds while I am staring at your long fingers passionately plucking the guitar strings.

As the show gets closer and closer to its climax, you plunge deeper and deeper into your inner musical world. I'm watching your body being completely swept away by an overwhelming emotion. Your limbs start shaking more and more nervously as all the muscles on your face get tenser and tenser. You don't follow the melody line anymore. Instead, you break the rhythm and burst into a hypnotic beat that leaves your band puzzled. People start whispering, confused by the sudden twist of the performance. The lead guitarist puts down his guitar and retreats in a shady corner, baffled by your behaviour. You're so caught up in a trance state of mind that he doesn't even dare interrupt you. At first, the drummer manages to keep up with your tempo but not for long because your music is now so chaotic that no one in the concert hall can follow you anymore. Your colleagues leave the scene in shock, while the chattering becomes louder and louder around me. Everything is on fire. The air smells like smoke and ashes, like love and blood. People are starting to rush for the exit doors. They cannot bare this frenzy anymore.

Suddenly, you throw the guitar on the floor and turn instinctively towards the piano in the shadiest corner of the stage. Not even bothering to seat down, you let your hands move spontaneously over the piano keys, touching them with outbursts of passion and fury.

I don't recall experiencing a feeling so intense before in my life. I couldn't keep the track of time but at a certain moment I find myself alone with you in the concert hall. I'm watching you leaning over the piano and playing the music of your heart as if you're playing the last song of your life. As if you have finally found a way to free your feelings, to express your emotions, to cry out your delusions, your fears, your failures.

You haven't noticed me yet. Your eyes are still closed and lost in your magic world that no one completely understands. Except me. Not only do I relate to everything that you are, but for me, your music speaks the language of my blood. I feel your rhythm, uneven as it is, echoing the pounding of my heart. Here is the only place where I feel alive: in between your sound beats, in between your heart beats.

Your piano play gets so hectic and your gestures so heated, that I fear that you'll end up collapsing. I am just about to stand up and run to you, to stop you from killing yourself but, at that very moment, you suddenly let your fingers finish abruptly the flow of the song and you head silently towards the centre of the stage.

You look just like a sad angel, with your skin so pale and your cheeks flushed by the deepest human emotions. Right before reaching the edge, you fall on your knees with tears streaming down your face. We are so close now that I can even smell the scent of your feverish body. For a moment, I think I'm about to swoon. My heart is beating so fast that I can feel it in every inch of my shivering body. The last thing that I remember is you, opening your tearful eyes and looking at me with the most beautiful eyes that I've ever seen.

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I open my eyes slowly. My sight is almost entirely blurry and all I can think is: "Where are you? I cannot lose you now. I've just found you." As I regain conscience, I feel a warm hand gently caressing my cold cheeks. I open my eyes as widely as possible and I see you, leaning over me and holding me in your arms. The veil of sadness has been lifted from your angelic face. We are at a loss for words but your eyes, the most beautiful eyes ever imagined, they are talking to me in all the languages of the world:

- "It is you, the one that I've been looking for so desperately."
- "I knew you'd find me. I've been waiting for you since forever."
- "It is only you who understands me."
- "It is only you who sings the music of my dreams."
- "I'll never leave you. I could never leave you. My blood is flowing in your veins."
- "I'll never doubt you. I could never doubt you. My heart is beating in your chest."

(first published in November 2009 on http://luiza82.deviantart.com/art/The-day-you-ll-find-me-143895300)

The problem with Edward

Whether we're talking about Edward Cullen (Twilight) or Edward Scissorhands, what we're actually talking about is the "Edward" type of man.

So what makes this Edward type?

Some people would think that it's all about the looks. Edward has deep dark eyes, messy silky dark hair, reddish lips and cold pale skin. The general features of his body, delicate to the point of being perceived as feminine, indicate a rather fragile character. In fact, Edward is much stronger than we could imagine just by looking at him and his strength comes from the inside.

Some others would think that it's all about the feelings. Edward not only experiences intense feelings and emotions, but he displays them. He falls in love madly and irrevocably. He would never stop believing in true love and this is why he is never afraid to risk anything for it. He is kind, gentle and romantic to the point of being considered naive and cheesy. Actually, his innocence comes from a genuinely pure heart.

If we sum up all these elements, we can easily conclude that what really makes Edward a self-contained type of man could be condensed in one single word: DIFFERENT. Yes, Edward is different from most men in so many ways. And I'm not talking about having scissors instead of hands or feeding on human blood. And it's not about the looks, for these could be deceiving. He may look feminine, though he triggers an incredible sexual attraction in women. He may look frail, though he's capable of great acts of courage when his love is in danger. He may look strange because very few of us can relate to his way of loving and living. This is why he always seems like he's coming from outer-space or at least from a long-forgotten romantic age. In fact, Edward strives for understanding but what is really essential about him is that he believes in soul-mates and he would do literally anything to find and keep his girl protected.

So, if this Edward is such a special and perfect guy, what's the problem with him? Why is it so difficult for him to find his happiness?

First of all, he doesn't seem to be "man enough" for most of the modern girls.
Reaction type 1: "Are you serious? Just look at him. He looks/thinks like a woman. How can he pretend to be a man?"
However, many of these girls will desperately need an Edward at least once in their lifetime, after they will have had enough of the vanity, indifference, deceiving, lust and all the other attributes of the much-adored hunky modern man.

Second of all, he's just too good to be true and after a while, he becomes boring.
Reaction type 2: "Oh, I would love a man like that. Actually, I did have an Edward once but it didn't work. You see, he was too good for me. I needed something else."
So, even if some of us had the rare chance of having an Edward in our life, we thought that he was too dreamy and unrealistic and maybe a bit too romantic for our world.

So what are the odds for Edward to find his half? Because there is still another problem:
If you eliminate all the type 1 and type 2 girls and if you admit that the very few left who might really need an Edward could be on the other side of the Earth, speaking a different language and living in a totally different culture, you can easily figure that our strange sensitive Edward has almost no chance whatsoever to fulfill his purpose in this life. Because yes, this is the real problem with Edward: he cannot live only for the sake of wealth, power, career, popularity or pleasure. All these mean nothing to him if he doesn't have his beloved one next to him.

I think what I'm trying to say is that, whether you are an Edward or a girl waiting for an Edward, whether you believe in fate or in coincidences, never stop believing in each other because you know it just like I know it that nothing else in this world would fill your heart with happiness. Most of all, nothing else in this world is worth all the loneliness, the pain and the desperate search. True love, it's all about true love, from the very beginning till the very end.

(first published in November 2009 on http://luiza82.deviantart.com/art/The-problem-with-Edward-143991948) 

Control me, Control you

Tell me, my sweetheart, in this love game we’re playing, if given the chance to choose, what would you prefer: controlling me or letting me control you?

Think about it: I’d be what you want me to be. I’d know when to smile flirtatiously or laugh childishly. I’d sense when you want me shy or when you need me red-blooded. I’d taunt you, tease you, please you, caress you, succumb to you, when you want it, how you want it. I’d play gently with your freckles until the break of dawn or I’d hurt my fingertips on the piano keys playing a passionate never-ending love song. It would be your call and I’d always be there for you. Only for you.

Or, you could let me use you, confuse you and abuse you. You’d paint my summer sky with water lilies just because I’ve always had this dream. You’d invent new words and new gestures only because I want you to love me differently. You’d stay wide awake every night only because I want you to write me long poems about the way I breathe in my sleep. You’d seduce me with your lingering eyes or you’d break my bones in a volcanic embrace. It would be my call and you’d always be there for me. Only for me.

If given this chance to choose, I’d definitely prefer to let you control me. You know why? Because I’m hanging on your love and I need to be sure that you truly love me. So yes, I would give myself to you completely. I’d be small, I’d be humble, I’d dance on your music, I’d walk on your shoes, I’d see the world in your eyes, I’d feed on your dreams, I’d fall in love with your demons, I’d even let you crush my heart under your feet if this is your wish.

Tell me, dearest, wouldn’t you love me more if you saw me sacrificing my freedom, my will, my soul, only to know the real you, risking everything only to hear you whisper a genuine word of endearment, only to feel a pure and uncontrolled love emotion in your eyes?

And tell me, love, if I’d make you love me more by giving myself to you, who’d be in control and who’d be the controlled one then?

~ Inspired by the movie "Gamer" ~

I won't look for the easy way out

Today. It's so damn cold today. The rain doesn't seem to stop very soon and the streets are almost entirely submerged in water. I've just finished my gym class. I'm exhausted but I feel so great. I put on my tights, my pencil skirt and my purple blouse and I'm just about to leave the building when I receive your call. You remind me not to be bold and walk on my way home.

"Your body is still warm and it's freezing outside. You should get a cab. Please take a cab!"

As soon as I hang up the phone, I open the exit door and I'm strongly hit by the harsh wind. I stay still for a few moments. I can feel the cold drops of rain falling over my flushed cheeks. It's such a bitter-sweet feeling that I close my eyes and start smiling. I pump up my chest, greedily inhaling the fresh air, filling up my lungs with the smell of autumn. As I let the cold wave embrace my body, I quiver and I find myself uttering out loud the following words:

"I won't look for the easy way out of this messy life of mine."

A pleasant feeling of tranquility suddenly overwhelms me. I open my eyes and start walking in the heavy rain, deciding not to open the umbrella. I step firmly on the flooded sidewalk, soaked up to the skin, shivering but unusually happy.

Yes, this is the first day of the rest of my life and I'm not looking for any loopholes in this screenplay. I will accept whatever I have to bear, I will face whatever I have to confront, I will fight whatever battles I have to hold.

I won't open my umbrella.
I won't get a cab.
I won't take any painkillers.
I won't scream for help.
I won't wear any life jackets.
I won't drug myself only to escape this reality.
I'm keeping my eyes wide open, my senses wide awake and my heart wide alive.

I want to feel life running through my veins. I want to shout as loud as I can:
"I'm not afraid to be alone. I'm not afraid to lose everything and start all over. I'm not afraid to be murdered and born again. I'm not afraid to watch my dreams die because I know I'll always come up with new ones. I'm not afraid to live with bleeding wounds because I know someone will heal them some day."

So I'm not looking for the easy way out. I want life to hit me as hard as it can. I'll always turn the other cheek around and say: "Thank you, I've never felt so alive before!"