demented happiness

What is it with me and love? I watch this little love miracles happen all over the place around me. Truth be told, I don’t really connect to any of these love stories. They always seem a little empty for me. Is it because I still dream of prince charming? Will this mean that I’ll end up alone or in some unsalted story of these? I remember the character of Kate Winslet, in Revolutionary Road, turning to her husband, Leonardo DiCaprio, and says «you promised me we wouldn’t be like everyone else». I guess that’s what I need to be told. So far, everyone I met had nothing but the same old collective path through life to promise me. And, with the few ones I loved, even that path seemed interesting. Still, only for those few I happened to love. Now, I see love stories occurring everywhere around me, simple stories – of boy meets girl through social networks, at high school, at the university, at the camping trip – and I realize that all those stories happen as farther from me as they can. Even the ones closest to me seem to be prohibited to touch it, to reach it. People I love the most on earth have never tasted love. Me neither. I’ve lived it in dreams a million times, I’ve imagined everything I could have, but I never actually rested my lips on it. And then there’s this problem of mine – the fact that I can’t easily fall in love. This seems not to make sense, when I realize that the last time I fell in love it happened in a fragment of time, like a flash passing over three or four whole days – I looked better at him, I understood great part of him, I wanted to know everything else about him, I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life – and that hasn’t changed since then. Am I cursed? Is it the love I carry in me a curse or a blessing? A rare, hopeless and useless blessing? Will I be stuck in this moment forever? In this dreams of me and him, of the perfect team we’d be together? Of the great life we’d perform together? Of the intelligent, well stimulated children we’d have? Of the kisses I’ll never get to know? Why don’t I simply fall in love with the first person I find likable to fall for me to? Why don’t I search for momentary happiness instead of a life of overwhelming, transcendent, happiness? This last one is so hard to reach… and surely I can’t get there on my own. I just hope, sincerely hope, because I got to the point I should start to make those questions, if will I ever let it go, of this past of lovers bigger than my soul. I had two and they almost broke me down. And I also had a smaller one, simpler one – and this happened to want me too, but it was just too simple, not for the circumstances, but for us. It was a story of a boy meets girl on a vacation and both fall for each other. Too simple, too poor. And I used to dream of greatness and excellence in my life, at least when it comes to love. I write novels, I’ve read hudreds of them, I know I good story when I see one. And it wasn’t a good story – just a satisfying one, and satisfaction is not what I want from life. I know I’m too ambitious in this aspect, but I don’t want to wake up glad that he is on the pillow by my side. I want to wake up euphoric that he’s there, I want to be excited, radiant! I don’t want to smile – I want to laugh. I don’t want the kind of peaceful feeling that overtakes one when another loves him back – I want to be thankful for the rest of my life for that, I want my days to be all but peaceful, I want us to fight, each and every day, against that same peace, I want us to collide as much as we can, so our chests won’t be able to get even closer, and, slowly, we start to share the knowledge one of another. With this not meaning that we’d be the double of each other, but that we’d know each other so damn good, and we’d respect the hell out of the other, that no one else, in the entire world and galaxy, would ever be able to provide that nearness. That’s what I want, and it’s not my choice to find people interesting – I just happen to think that 99% of the humanity has absolutely nothing to give me, and nothing to do with me, and I don’t want to meet them, it would bring too much trouble. In this 1% I know, and in those 0,1% that I love, I’ve found a source of demented happiness for life. What can I do if I love like a madwoman? He deserved nothing less than that.