Who I think is my true love, was not my first love or my second. But he was the one that I let go away. It is hard for me to write this post because I know that it is a way to say to him that I still love him as much as I did years ago, and honestly, I don’t know what would be his reaction to that confession
In my entire childhood nobody hurt me as much as my mother’s sister did. I think that she is one of the evilest persons I have ever encountered because all her violence was directed to a little girl who was abandoned, trying to fit in a unknown family and couldn’t defend herself.
It was a summer day. I was dressed in black and wearing dirty converse shoes.
J yelled at me “Are you a punk girl? a rock girl? let’s meet each other!” I laughed at this particular way of introducing himself and once he had seen me laughing he came closer.
He was cute, the cutest guy I had ever laid eyes on. Dark hair, dark eyes and a stare to melt every girl in town. We talked about music, and after talking for hours he asked my number. I was reluctant but at the end I gave it to him and then I went home.
My father is a professional photographer so I have lots of pictures of myself when I was a child. In most of them I am alone, a few with my mother and a few with him.
My father loves me, I have no doubt in that but he was never present in my life. I think that the day he left me with my maternal grandmother his parental duties left with him.
He is very good with words, he used to write me lots of letters to compensate his absence one letter that I still keep with me says “Dear daughter : when you consider that I am to far away from you, be assured I’m the closest to your heart” beautiful right? a poet.
The difference between false memories and true ones is the
same as for jewels: it is always the false ones that look the
most real, the most brilliant.