Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • Who said that to let go was easy. I had been living for a year and a half with a foot in the past and one in the present but every time the one behind tries to move forward it seems like an invisible force keeps it there walking in all those fading memories that I want to delete but they are alive as long as my foot is there.

    The smell of an ending was around for a long time but inside my heart the few beautiful times we shared reminded as an sculpture built with love ,but it was another sculpture next to that and this one was built with pain and tears and sorrows and I cannot look at one without looking at the other one. This is not like the Taj Ma Jal that was supposed to be a monument of eternal love, mine was to show people that in most part of the times love is transitory.

    I remember that someone said that love will crown you and then will crucify you. I had the crown and I felt loved and beautiful and a real goddess in the eyes that I loved so much. Suddenly I was in the cross with blood in my tears for so much pain. I am not anymore in the cross or wearing a crown made of fragile hopes. I am in a vacuum where nothing is important and a day follows another day without feeling butterflies in my tummy waiting, for a call or running to check my email expecting to see his loving writing on my screen. All that is buried with the poor butterflies wings and now life has become like a cemetery instead, where all the dreams are dead and all the roses that bloomed one day in my heart for love are black like the only memory very real of what happened.

    I wonder why do I keep my foot in that land of pain maybe because I felt alive and life was beautiful ,but I say looking from the distance to the past I will never be able to understand why something so perfect became a nightmare of imperfections. I heard one day the expression "If you are in a relationship that gives you six day of Heaven and one of Hell stay, but If you have six days of Hell and one of Heaven...run away”
    I stayed instead. I wonder if my soul was in search of more punishment. I begged, I explained and I tried and I tried but it was this cold voice with no feelings always answering to me until my love one day died of loneliness and the acceptance of the ending arrived finally to my heart. I was a goddess for a little while and it felt so good. Pedestals however are so fragile for the goddess in mortal bodies. He was an angel and his wings maybe a play of my imagination disappeared at the same time I fall from my pedestal.

    I became a woman. I was accused of things I did and even more of the things I never did. It was never my story it was always his version and it was black or white but nothing in between. No understanding, no compassion, no pity. I was with a jury 24 hours a day and the sentence was always on the top of my head like a Damocles sword but never really been carried out . I wonder now why did I stay.Why do I keep my foot in that past.No answers to my questions

    So now we are two mortals without crown or wings and we replaced them by armors to protect our real self and we are not who we really are.Words are so superficial and we see each other and talk about this connection that we still have.I do not feel any connection anymore.It is just excuse to keep going into this strange world that is not white or black but of a muddy Grey.
    I miss the butterflies and the racing heart and the dreams I had every night.Now he is not in my head anymore and my dreams are not about him. Life goes on but the foot is still there and as the time passes I have the feeling my leg is becoming and enlarged part of myself just to keep my poor foot in that land of dead dreams.

    Picture by Cecilia
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.