The Sun

For someone like me, it is quite unbelievable that I fell for someone like you so easily. Sometimes I’m embarrassed of myself for that, but nobody cares about etiquette anymore so I guess I’m shameless.
“The sun shines up your a*s and sometimes it’s so bright I can’t feel my eyes.” I told you.
You are the one that thought me not to be a prude. You said “Everybody’s naked under their clothes. So why not say it out loud? Why be scared of who you really are without matter?”
I thought you were fascinating. So I let you in, I allowed you to read my lips and watch my eyes move like they were your favorite movie. I didn’t pull away. I drew you closer. And I still remember your paintbrush painting my skin in the dark and me letting you.
Do you still remember how we met and how far into the ocean we swam?
You wrote a book. I forgot the title. I still hated you then.
You wrote a book and you used my name and I felt like you violated everything we ever had. ‘We’ were not a love story you could write about. ‘We’ were more than words could ever say. ‘We’ were the sun and the rain. I taught you how to smile and you taught me how to cry. I read your books and you smelled my hair. It was salty. From the air. And the water. And the sand…
“What?” you laughed.
I loved your laughter. And your smile. It was like a first escape to the beach when you turn eighteen; like feeling the sun on your face and the cold water tickling your toes. To me, it was like summer.
And I know you love autumn. And I know you call it ‘fall’ because you fell so many times before, losing yourself in your darkest corners, leaving the white canvas with a big black stroke.
And you loved my music like no other. And you loved my sunburnt skin that smelled of warm freshness. And you loved my blue nails and bare face.
“What?” I responded.
We were watching some lame foreign TV show and you couldn’t understand a thing, but you kept watching like it made perfect sense to you.
That was when I realized I loved you so much that it hurt. My heart was physically too small for the love I felt for you and I thought that it might explode. I was childish and mature. More mature than you were. And I bought you candy and taught you how to be a child again.
Picasso said “It took me only four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”
It took you only two years to become a miserable b*****d, but a lifetime to become like a pure child again.
You were my Picasso and I was your muse. You were my muse and I was your book. You were my book and I lost myself in your pages.
“You know how the weather is. You can never trust it.” You said.
I mocked you in my head. You were always so profound and I felt like you were a little old man sometimes, but you were only twenty-six and too stupid to be wise.
 And your skin " I could not see because of your rich dark beard that I adored greatly. And your eyes were blue like an ocean on the sky and some blue paint and blue cupcake sprinkle.
And you were ugly sometimes. Yes, I said UGLY. I loved you for being ugly because I was ugly too and I found myself in you.
But you were perfect too. Yes, I said PERFECT. I loved you for being imperfect with perfection and you loved me for my perfect imperfections.
“I think I love you” I said.
And my heart sighed of relief like somebody picked up that huge rock that had been resting on my chest for so long. And I didn’t want to look at you or look away or blink of fear to catch or miss your expression.
And my hands moved on the couch feeling the rough velvet. My brain stopped on the frame that I pictured so many times; a made story of me and you, in my brain, just us two.
“Love is just a state of mind” you told me.
I slapped you and you didn’t blink or sigh. You were tense. And your look was fierce. It was raining. In London. Again.
“I love you” you said again.
Your fingers pinched my arms and I knew I still loved you then.
That reminds me of when we haven’t met yet and you couldn’t hurt me in any way. And it reminds me of that because your pinch was like a wake-up call in a hotel room near the airport at 4 a.m. and the man on the other side says is time to wake up and get ready, my plane is leaving at 7.
And I didn’t know what it meant then but I do now. It was a joke that I taught you that maybe I shouldn’t have. I was in the clouds, flying, too far away to realize what you implied.
“Hello, darling” you said when we met outside a café.
I turned my back and walked away.
Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t hate you for sleeping with that blonde or that redhead. I hated you for letting me believe you could love me and only me.
And I guess you did because for two years or so you didn’t leave me with some lame excuses. You stayed, you cuddled and texted sometimes. And you bought me flowers once. It wasn’t my birthday. It was just a sunny spring day with dew everywhere.
“To new beginnings” you said that day and four years later on New Year’s Eve when we decided to give it another try.
You’ve gotten older and dumber. You were skinny and smelled differently. But you were still charming and I think I was still dreaming, remembering of ‘us’ sometimes to agree to go out with you again.
And you fooled me. You got me. Yes. Again.
And I should have known. But I’m only human and humans are fools.
I loved you for making a fool for loving you and hated you for letting me love you. Again and again. When I shouldn’t have.
I grew up and you grew down. We ended up being a messed-up couple struggling not to hate each other because deep down, somewhere underneath reality, we were still in love. But I guess that wasn’t enough because
in the end, I fell in love with another you and he became my sun and my moon like you did so many times before, a long time ago.
“The sun shines up your a*s and sometimes is so bright I can’t feel my eyes” I told him.
And he smiled and kissed my head and smelled my hair. It was salty. From the air. And the water. And the sand…
“I love you” he said.


 

 

Author's Note

is my style too simple?
on the whole, how was it?
did you like it?

Reviews

[Edward Lancheister]

i like the conversation in this story. simply, “The sun shines up your a*s and sometimes it’s so bright I can’t feel my eyes.” this words make me smile. funny

thought sunshine could bring a sparkle from drop that left on your hand or feet, sparkle like a diamond.
even if you look closer it could be a little rainbow inside the water that drips :)

i love nature and the beauty brings :)

[Andreea Laura]

thank you so much! I love that line too! :)

[00000000000000000000000..]

Your style is what you make of it ok, Yes I know to be a book writer you have to keep all minds glued upon the page , I felt you did just that. Always write as you ok no1 else but you. If we wrote as every1 else then what would it be? It wouldn't be a creation just a copy in the wind. And yes I did Like the story very much:)

[Andreea Laura]

Thank you very much! xx

[0000000000000000000000000000]

Your very welcome my new friend:)