It's fascinating, almost comical, to suddenly see yourself asking yourself a thousand questions. It is a gift, certainly, to take this introspective journey. But as soon as we women begin to doubt our worth, our beauty, our attractiveness, the comic of fate is revealed.Even more surprising is the paradox that affects even the most trusting among us.
Because, despite unfailing trust, these questions haunt us. Is it a question of generation? Mine being only mine, I can only talk about it. I grew up in the cradle of a forty-year-old love, convinced as a child that worthy men had disappeared with my father. But ironically, as fate grew up, I wondered if my mother had simply accepted the lesser evil.
As I grew older, the myth of love dissipated as quickly as my hopes for humanity. Learning to trust and know each other then becomes a delicate dance. I dissected every gesture, every word, discovering that human nature, and more particularly masculine nature, seems strangely uniform in its diversity.
This text is not an ode to hatred, but a reflection on my deepest thoughts. Why is it so difficult for a man to behave with respect and dignity? Why is it so difficult for them to let go before making a series of conquests? Why attach a pure, loving soul who only wants to cherish his partner in the healthiest way possible?I'm not a psychologist, but it seems to me that men share a common trait: narcissism, to varying degrees. They desire love, attention, the desire of the opposite sex, but, alas, men seem insatiable. As they say, "the grass is always greener elsewhere", until a pest settles in and ravages everything.
Men seem to live an astonishing paradox: recognizing the love they receive while being thirsty for mystery, for the forbidden. And yet, what cruelty to inflict endless suffering and sleepless nights on an innocent person. Even the strongest hearts end up being betrayed by their feelings. At some point, we wonder if their affection is sincere, out of habit or obligation. Are we their comfort zone while needing stimulation elsewhere?
In my prayers, I keep asking to be loved, respected and cherished, unconditionally. For better or worse, I wish to see our faces scarred by time, our salt and pepper hair, growing.
From the height of my 26 years, my world represents a paradigm where I am convinced that I am sufficient, because it alone will be enough for me.
The irony lies in my new perception: nothing shocks me anymore, nothing surprises me. I have learned to accept that the hope of fidelity can be broken.We live in a time where engagement has become as easy as a Netflix subscription: "subscription without commitment, cancel anytime."
The irony of fate is this: I am, and will remain, nothing but an eternal lover, driven by the burning desire to build a home, to shape a new generation, full of love for the next forty years.I have faith in humanity, in its promises and in its dreams. I believe in love, in everything that fate has in store for me. But above all, I have faith in God, the only source of true, unconditional love.-TheShine
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Reflections & Revelations: A Journey Through My Thoughts
SpiritualJoin me on a journey through my thoughts and experiences. Through my writings, I share personal reflections and lessons learned, hoping to reach those who may relate and find comfort or insight in my stories.