𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝

10

valentina

Placing my hands on the edge of the pool, I pull myself out and run my hands through my hair, the little droplets of water falling off as I do.

I sit with my legs in the water, looking around the room for a second. It's a relatively dark basement, with a black tiled walls and floors, contrasted with light brown timber. The pool floor itself is a deep emerald-blue colour that reminds me of the sea.

Earlier, I took the chance to explore the house and I found this place. So I picked up my favourite cherry bikini and spent all afternoon swimming and floating around.

Walking carefully as not to slip, I make my way over to the chaise lounges, reaching for my towel and wrapping it my body.

After drying myself off, I lay down on the comfy chairs, staring up at the ceiling.

I've been distracting myself as much as possible these past couple days, not even giving myself time to stop and think.

Thinking leads to bad things.

I hate that Matteo saw me in such a vulnerable state, and I hate how he's acting as if I need a baby sitter. This past week he's been working from home, cooking us both meals and just keeping an eye on me at all times.

I hate it.

I've never had anyone to look over me, I've always cared for myself. I don't like the feeling of having to rely on anyone else and having someone care for me is giving them the power to hurt me.

If I've survived 21 years of living, picking up my own broken pieces and gluing myself back together every time I break, I'm sure that I can continue to do so.

The sound of the basement door opening reaches my ears and I don't bother to move, knowing that it's Matteo.

"Hey, purple." His low voice forces my eyes to open and I don't even realise that I'd closed them.

Lazily, my head drops over to the side, facing his body as it walks closer towards me. He's wearing his usual business man outfit and his hair lays messily on his head.

"Hey." A small smile spreads across my lips and he mirrors it, coming to sit on the other chaise lounge next to me, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward.

I watch as his eyes travel the length of my body before they land on my face, he swallows hard.

I'm pretty confident in my own skin. It's not like I have the flattest stomach, I have organs and a uterus and skin to protect them. I couldn't say how much I weigh because I truly don't know, as long as I'm eating balanced overall, I'm happy.

So when his eyes travel the length of my body, it doesn't make me feel uncomfortable or nervous of his opinion and what he's thinking, because one persons view on me doesn't define me as a person and neither does my body.

If someone doesn't like what you look like, move on from them and let them try and find what they want. Because if they can't look past your physical appearance to take the chance to get to know you and your values and morals as a human being, then you're better off without them.

They have a lot of maturing to do.

Maturity, in my opinion doesn't strictly come from age. It comes from you're experiences and the way you handle things as a result from them. A young person can go through a lot and mature from it because they've learnt what's best to do in those situations. Experiences come with age, so I understand why many believe that maturity also comes with it.

But lets say an older person who has never had any bad life experiences and never been put in tough situations or had to deal with dangerous people and there's a younger person who's experienced the lot, which one has matured more.