What I Think About Love

True Love?

Sometimes we don't know how to handle the amazing gifts that walk into our lives, we have not yet built the right craft to receive them. Sometimes we are not able to overcome the challenges that are in our way, we do not have the capabilities yet. Occasionally we have difficulty doing what we know is right, there are little gremlins telling us to do the wrong thing. We have to lose something to realize how important it is to us. Challenges are meant to be overcome. You have to let go of the picture of what you thought life would be like and learn to find joy in the story you're actually living. When something breaks we can't fix it the way it was before it was broken, because it was in an imperfect state. We have to build it stronger than it ever was. Your mind needs more time to accept what your heart already knows. They say true love between two people can never be broken or replaced and that love is the most powerful thing in the world, worth more than wealth, stronger than any natural force. My grandma always said that the way of the Creator is that man should not be alone in this world. He searches and searches until he finds the woman who completes him, and when he does he will not let her go. He will overcome every challenge internal and external, to be with her. True love is supposed to be waiting for someone, no matter how long it takes. The world does not exist in a perfect state. You are all you have and all you will actually ever need. Each one of us must stand up and do what is right, what we know must be done, to make it a little more perfect. True love can never be extinguished. But I don't believe in true love.

So here goes my story why.
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"Ro can you please come downstairs for a second?" -my grandma yelled from the kitchen.

I stopped the Beatles as I removed my headphones, put my sketches aside and headed downstairs. Walking down the stairs, as always pictures of my mother would follow the path. She had a whole wall dedicated only to her. My mother passed away when I was a little girl. Since then nothing in my family was the same. They are all grieving to this day and are stuck in the past. I can't say I'm not but I don't like to remember her or anything related with her. The only thing that is still connecting us is drawing. And God did she love drawing. She taught me a lot about it. I fell in love with it and I can't imagine me stopping, even tho it hurts every time I draw because I get this feeling that she is here beside me. Watching my every move on that paper.

"Look darling something came for you."

My grandma was passing me an envelope decorated with drawings of white and red roses all over it. It looked pretty fancy if you ask me. I didn't have a clue of what was it about.

After closely observing the letter and its details I finally read who was it from. It was my dad. He wrote to me. He had the guts to speak to me after not saying a word for the past 5 years. I tore the letter to pieces. I really didn't wanna know what he had to say to me.

I went upstairs and full of anger I slammed the door. I heard a picture falling off the wall. I started to panic of the thought of broken picture. I peered in a hallway with a worried expression on my face. I saw one picture on the floor. My hands were shaking as I was picking it up. It was turned back so I couldn't see if it was broken or not. I turned it around and saw that nothing was cracked except the left corner of the frame. It was a bit cracked. I hastily put it back on the wall where it belongs. I looked around the floor to see if anything else has fallen. On my luck, everything else was in place.

"Is everything alright? - grandma said worryingly when rushing towards the stairs.

"Yup. Everything's alright. Nothing happened here. I just collapsed as I was walking up. Haha" -I nervously laughed hoping she won't notice a crack on one of the pictures and waterfall streaming down my palms.

Every nerve in my body was triggered. I knew how much my grandma cared about these memories that are kept only in frames.

I entered my room and spend the rest of the evening there. Here I had all I need. My little private bathroom, electronics, an easel and a whole lot of supplies which contained pencils, colors, charcoal and all the other things I could paint with. I have always liked painting what I feel at that specific moment. Drawing was some kind of expression for me. I never liked talking about my feelings so I would just always took the brush or pencil in my hand and let all that out on the paper. That is easier than explaining to people what you're going through and then listening to them talking about how sorry they are and how they would do anything to help. But guess what. You can't help. Nobody can bring my old life back. Nobody can turn back time to when I was 8 and my mother was holding me with one hand and with the other father's hand. It's all gone now and I stopped believing that "it will be better".
It's too late now and tomorrow is a big day. Putting on a fake smile is pretty important you know? Especially if you want to avoid questions.
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The next morning started like every other. I woke up, laid in bed for another hour, then I decided to get out of the bed. I looked through my window which wasn't meadows and mountains kind of stuff. It was directed at neighbours house so all I could see was bricks as they line up one after the other. I took the shower and if you think after that I put some clean clothes on, you're wrong. Every day I would stay in my Pj's till pretty much the whole day. I don't like going out. Well I like going out with Jessica but she moved away so she only comes once in two weeks. She is my best friend since you know we were kids and all that other cliche.
But this day didn't go as I planned.

"I'm going where!? To whom!? For how long!?" - I hysterically screamed around the house.

"That's only 3 months my dear. You have to go there and don't think about saying you're not, young lady. He really needs you now." -said my grandmother.

"Oh, okay. But when I needed him for the last 5 years he was too busy to come or even wright to me!?"

"He is your father Ro."

"He definitely isn't my father. Maybe biologically but no other way."

"Don't talk like that Rose! I mean it now. You can't be bitter about his actions your whole life. If you don't try to fix your relationship with your father you will be sorry later."

"He left me grandma. He left me alone when I needed him to be with me. He only wrote 2 or 3 letters since." - the tears started rolling down my pale face.

"I know it hurts Ro but it will hurt more if it stays like this forever. Go and give him another chance. People can surprise you sometimes." - saying that, she took my trembling body into her embrace.

My father left me the day after my mother died. He had to work and had too much of it, so obviously I was only a distraction for him. It hurt for the first two years. Later then as I entered puberty it turned into anger and now the only thing I can feel is hate. Lots and lots of hate. I know it sounds harsh, maybe too harsh, but I don't know any other way to express my feelings towards it.
But as always grandma got me with her cute wrinkled face, those little wrinkled arms and her sweetheart eyes. She really did know how to manipulate people. Especially with grandpa. I'm not sure if he knows and notices but in the end he does just like grandma says. He tries to defend himself by saying it's not like that and that he wanted to do it anyway, but you can tell that he did that only because grandma said so. I think it's cute and all but I'm not sure if he's afraid or he's just easy to manipulate with. He says it's love and that love holds him under her spells but you all know what I think about love.