Love Story

But I do not know A Short Love Story | Love Stories to Read

When the weight of the day faces the lightness of the spirit and the thoughts that never cease to stir the interior of the human mind are added, concerns and dilemmas begin to arise around the most routine simplicities that existence contains, suddenly taking on a Such dimension, that they are able to take with them the tranquility and serenity that gives the tiredness repaired in sleep. And among these troubles and reflections always sneak the issues that have determined the future and the doom of the world, the putrefaction of some and the vainglory of others, the vanity of so many and the despair of the rest.

When the poison of unhappiness spreads through the veins of anxiety and impatience, it is very common to surrender to the evidence of pessimism and to breathe deep sighs trying to expel the pain that accumulates in the depths of the chest. The thickness of the clouds that nest in the mind diverts the gaze towards the dark premonitions that augur an uncertain but unhappy outcome for your ambitions. Discomfort seizes your bones, wraps your muscles with weakness and submits your head, in reverence for misfortune.

And all because you did not have the delicacy to correspond one look with another, a smile with another, a caress with another. Because you don’t realize that I pass by your door every day looking for a chance encounter. Because it is no coincidence that I feel two rows behind you. Because if I look away when you look at me, it’s only out of embarrassment. Because I’ve seen the movies you cry about, I’ve read the stories you dream of, and I’ve listened to the music that moves you, to try to experience what you feel. Because it is not a compliment if I tell you that you are very pretty; and because whatever I do I always get indifference.

And sometimes I wish I had talent and could channel all the sadness that saturates my nerves and causes me discomfort, that prompts me to give up, and that tears my soul apart on a sheet of paper. And knowing how to write and describe the confused feelings that struggle in my mind, in order to free it from the captivity of hopelessness and discouragement. But…

I will not rewrite my cries or laments, I no longer have verses or arguments, I have wasted time trying to make sense of all this … ‘

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