Lift: Our Story (1000 Word Challenge)

 

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I could sense he wanted to say something by the way he was looking at me, eyes wide open. But I waited patiently, brushing his hair with my fingers, until he gathered his strength. “Why… Lift?” I smiled with melancholy when memories started flowing through. There were so many of them, still fresh like it had happened yesterday… “Well, where should I start? You know most of the story, I could just jump to the conclusion-” “No. I know all of it, but I want to hear everything from you… Please.” He smiled, the same smile with perfect white teeth that intimidated me at the beginning, when I had no idea what role he was about to play in my story. I sighed.

“A couple of months ago, one of the most powerful companies in the city was going through a pilot study. Some employees were about to receive a personal assistant, shaped for their personality, which was supposed to help them increase productivity at the workplace. Of course I was sceptical. I didn’t want any help, I thought I could do everything by myself, even if that meant working more hours. But oh, how wrong I was! After endless questionnaires, I was about to meet him, or her, or… it. The day came when I had to spend some time with my new assistant, to check if any changes were to be made, if I’m fully satisfied… Someone knocked at my desk. ‘Come in!’ I said, unsure what to expect. I was afraid I would feel uncomfortable, I thought I would be able to tell the difference… That’s when I met you. When that tall, dark-haired man entered my office, smiling shyly at me, remember what I asked you?… Of course you remember, you don’t forget anything, I know.”

A white smile flashed on his face.

“Yes, that’s the smile you were wearing! Although it became more amused when I asked if the robot wasn’t ready yet…”

I was feeling emotional again, but I knew he wanted me to continue, to live everything once again, together. So I told him about how exhausted I was feeling because of working extra hours, even with his help, since I still preferred to do most of the job myself. About how he approached me, joking that I was the machine, not him, and about how close we soon became.

“I knew I wasn’t supposed to call you by a human name, to avoid becoming too attached. But we were getting along really well together and I started to get bored with just using your unique ID number. So one day after you made me blush with your compliments – and it wasn’t about my pretty blue dress, but about how smart I was for solving that annoying system error – I was standing alone in the office after you had left, with a stupid smile on my face and a familiar feeling. You know I usually take the elevator in the office from the 10th floor, and halfway through I have that sensation when my stomach is dropping, falling… but then, standing there, I knew that time it was my heart that was actually falling – falling in love with the wrong species.”

I sighed again. It’s always easy to get lost in the past, especially if the past is full of warm, happy moments. What’s more difficult is to come back, to face the cold, blue reality… He smiled at me. “And?”

“Well, that’s when I found your nickname: Lift. Because I realised that when I was with you, I felt either the happiest or the saddest I’d ever been. My moods and feelings were going up and down, I knew we weren’t supposed to be together, but I just couldn’t help it…” I could feel tears forming at the corners of my eyes, then my sight got blurry. I didn’t want to cry. So while Lift’s hand was carefully brushing my tears away, I tried to focus on happier memories.

“The day we kissed for the first time was almost a dream. I knew it was forbidden, you knew that too, didn’t you? It’s imprinted in your mind… But that didn’t stop us from sharing another kiss the next day, then another. I remember how much more confident I was feeling, I thought everything was possible with you by my side… Work became almost a pleasure, we were so much more productive than anyone had anticipated. But it was still just like a dream… I woke up when we got caught, I could see the terror in their eyes, it suddenly struck me that no one would understand that love doesn’t care about such differences. We were split apart, I got fired, they took you away. I never heard back from you, I begged them to let me speak to you one more time, but they looked at me as though I was the lowest person in the universe. And now you’ve come to my door after so long, and without any word you just collapse in my arms – you scared me, Lift! And telling me that they’ve started the shutting down procedure – that you’ve been labelled as faulty because you kept saying my name… Oh, Lift! How on earth did you manage to run away and come here?! I mean with just only hours, maybe minutes left until-”

My voice broke. I couldn’t say it. Tears were now running down my face, but this time no one was making any effort to wipe them; my hands were still holding his head. I could see the lights in his eyes dimming slowly, and I knew I had to be brave. Like he taught me to be. I leaned down closer to him, hoping he could still hear my whispers. “I love you, Lift. And I swear I will bring you back to life.” Between tears filling my eyes I saw him, smiling shyly for a split second, before becoming just another soulless machine.

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The Battle Inside ~Old Draft~

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Hey, how do you feel today?

Well, what do you think? We both know we’re not going anywhere with this…

I know you have the impression that you love him. But really, do you?… How can you be sure?

I just feel it… Really hard. I can’t even explain it to someone else… It’s like – a short break, no longer than a heartbeat – I melt when I see him, when he looks at me.

A sigh. It’s not the right thing, you know? He’s leaving in a month, and it looks like there’s no chance of coming back… What are we going to do then?

We? Well, I don’t care about you. I’ll be happy. He just completes me, I feel it.

But he’s not the right one… He can’t be. Remember all he’s done to you in the past-

It’s your job to remember, mine is to feel, to feel the feelings I’ve been dreaming of- you’ve been dreaming of.

You’ll get smashed. Broken into pieces. It will be hard to find someone else to put you back together. You’ll regret it.

I take that risk. And please stop thinking that much…

Well, still, are you sure? Believe me, you don’t deserve him-

But I know he loves me-

However, if you get hurt-

At least it will be a lesson learned, that will never be repeated-

You know you always say that!

Silence. A heartbeat, then another.

A sigh. I don’t agree with you, but fine, we’ll do as you say. And you’re the stupid one here, believe me. Now lead the way, please.

And I followed my heart. Should I have listened to my mind instead?

[11.06.2014 – written for the Writing 101 Challenge, Dialogue between Different Perspectives]

The Versions of Me, of You, of Us

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I’ve recently finished a book called The Versions of Us, a title which sounded interesting enough to make me read the back cover, then buy it. There were three intercalated stories which actually related the same story, but, well, different versions of it. This article though is not going to be a book review – the book is just a background, a pretext to write, a mere inspiration for giving my thoughts some depth and direction.

A similar idea was written in some of my previous articles. One of them described multiple versions of me, but chronological versions, the ones you need to go through one by one – just as I explained here, such an event is called in computer science the depth first search, in which you just keep moving forward without looking left or right. But the opposite is called the breadth first search, in which all the possibilities are evaluated before taking the next step. And these versions of me, corresponding to breath first search, would be far more complicated that the chronological versions.

Back to the book, the two main characters are an aspiring painter and an aspiring writer, occupations which both require a large amount of creativity, and lots of patience and practice. But creativity and imagination are exactly what’s needed to have your mind wandering, in my case not to find answers for What if…? questions, but to find the questions themselves: which were the turning points in my life so far, what were the precise decisions which made me take this specific path in life?

The reason I’m not thinking about the answers, about different possible lives that I could be living, is that I don’t like being trapped in the past, nor in a future that will never happen. Not that it makes me sad to think about different versions, cause it doesn’t (or does it?), but it’s a bitter-sweet sensation, the kind that’s too strange to be classified as either sad or happy. Like this song here.

An alternative life was mentioned during a fantasy movie I was watching some time ago. Just a brief idea, but enough to make me think – and perhaps also make one of the guys I was watching it with, think. The main hero’s crush, which is, unfortunately for him, not a mutual crush, tells him something that sounds cliché but at the same time really profound: Maybe in a parallel universe we end up being together. And the worst thing was not watching the friendzoned hero’s sad eyes and sensing his broken heart, but knowing that the exact same situation was happening between two of the people whose eyes were silently glued to the screen.

So, yeah. I guess saying Yes instead of No is always a (major) change of events, a new opportunity which could push you on a whole different path in live. But no regrets means the right choice was made, I think. Cause that’s one thing that keeps us from being happy, regrets. Comparing ourselves with others and with other versions of us. Asking ourselves What if…? and then fantasising about a better path in life, when actually there’s no assurance that the current path is worse that the hypothetical one.

And the same happens about accepting an invitation to going out, to dinner, to a movie or whatever. In those seconds before answering, make sure you realise that, as strange as it may sound, that answer may push you away from a path and onto another. Choosing your high-school profile, your university course, your friends and job – anything is just another step on a specific path which will later form the current and authentic version of yourself – all the others are just possibilities that slowly disappear into time.

Of course, it is not always us who make the decision. Maybe the guy I never knew would have answered the way I thought I wanted him to. But that’s part of his versions, not mine, and unfortunately we can’t really know much about the versions of others that don’t involve us. Cause all the others around us have their own power of choice, and all the paths together create a spider web which is by itself so complex, that one shouldn’t even try to think about all the other versions of it…

What’s more, apart from the other persons there’s also something else that contributes to moving on a particular path: chance. There’s always a chance for something to happen, and some say that the more you fear it, the highest the chance for it to actually occur. And something such as unwanted pregnancy seems to be quite a major turning point into one’s life, so how can one not fear it?… (don’t worry, not a major book spoiler).

A situation when a complex life with lots of choices can be explored is… in computer games 🙂 Cause you can choose a path, or how to answer to someone, or not kill another character and then load the game and explore other possible versions of it. But you can’t really do that in real life, so you just have to live with whatever decisions you make, or do your best to move on a desired path.

Somehow thinking about this topic reminded me of the animated movie Hercules, or more specifically the sequence when he risks his life to save the girl from death, and becomes immortal – I still remember his life thread turning into a material that couldn’t be cut anymore. To be honest I’m not entirely sure how this relates to the rest of the article, but the idea is that we always have a choice for the overall life we’re living: our decisions, thoughts, how we act and react will define us, and in the end we’re just going to live the version of us that we shape ourselves.

Maybe another version of me was perfect for another version of you. Or is, or will be… Who knows?

This Is Not About Crushes.

Heart Eyes

I wanted to write about crushes. Then lots of stuff happened recently and I kept postponing it, so right now I don’t feel like writing about crushes. Not today.

I’d rather listen to the rain while laying in my bed, and watching the wallpaper on my phone crying with raindrops. It makes me sad in a way, but I’ve promised myself I wouldn’t cry again too soon. I remember my first article from more than a year ago, where I talked about rain… That article was the start of me explaining to myself how crushed I felt, when a mutual crush ended after a while. That’s the thing with crushes, they crush you in a way. And if they don’t, you either fall in love or fall out of love, but you’re still getting crushed sooner or later. Can you have a crush on someone who has crushed you already? Probably not. It would be insane, I guess.

But anyway, I said this would not about crushes. It makes me sad, trying to write about crushes. And not because of my first mutual crush, but because of more recent events. Unfortunate events that came in a series (speaking about that, I could probably think about a few characters from books I felt attracted to, in a way. But that’s another story, other kind of ‘crushes’); and it’s strange that usually people are happy to talk about crushes, right? Like, they’re eyes become little hearts and this kind of stuff (at least in cartoons). And I guess there’s a phase which may resemble that metaphor, but it’s only a matter of time until you get to the next stage: either accepting that there’s nothing going on, or falling in love. And to be honest I’m not sure which is worse.

But I’m not talking about crushes, I’m talking about me and how I realised that maybe there was something a little more special about him. Maybe it was because he seemed to understand my thoughts and I could be myself when I was with him. Maybe it was the fact that he wrote back to me, in a way that no one did before. (I was waiting for someone else to write back at some point long ago, but in the meantime I gave up waiting.) Maybe because he was using the phrase ‘to be completely honest’, maybe because he was hard to read and I had no idea if I was amongst his thoughts; or maybe I was feeling lonely, which is a lie, cause the verb should be in present tense. But anyway, it’s hard to have a crush on someone, it’s even harder to tell them and the hardest thing to do is accept their decision. I survived though, it’s OK. I guess it’s better to know what the other feels about you, before you fall too hard. You can’t afford to fall too hard – you don’t want to be crushed by all the thoughts and dreams and future plans that may include him, right? Don’t let him crush you by being present in your mind if you’re not sure there’s a chance, as little as it may be, for things to work out.

But anyway, I don’t really feel like talking about crushes. Not when I can still hear the words ‘So… I guess you’ll write another article now’ which came from someone who was having a crush on me. And I was refusing him, I explained the situation (lame excuses, I guess), but it was hard. It’s hard to explain why things wouldn’t work out when you actually care about that person, it’s hard to continue and live the everyday life knowing he’s not looking at you with the same eyes he had beforehand, it’s hard to ask him the name of England’s Eurovision song, without blinking when hearing the answer. But again, I admire the courage to speak the truth, and I do believe that it’s better to be honest and talk about feelings rather than slowly getting crushed by the amount of them. But you can get crushed if someone has a crush on you, just like the phrase says. You get crushed by their attention, and I may be weird, but I don’t feel at ease when I get too much unwanted attention. It makes me back off and slowly start rejecting people, and yeah… Better to understand the message than becoming a freak, I guess.

Perhaps I’m just too picky, or I feel so alone that it’s hard to realise if I actually want the crush thingie to work, or it’s just the loneliness that may induce feelings. I don’t know. Is it nice to have a crush? Well, when I was younger (and yes, I’m still young) I guess it was sweet. But not anymore. Now it’s just strange, and hard, and sad, and then either everything or nothing at all: nothing if you fall out of love, everything if you get crushed. There’s also the case when things work out, of course, but more importantly, do they continue to work out in the future? You can fall out of love if that’s the wrong person you were falling in love with. And that’s OK as well.

But I’m not picky. I just don’t have a clear idea about what I want, but I start getting more ideas about what I do not want. Does that count as picky? If you say you feel lonely, but refuse anyone who wants to come closer to you? I don’t know. I used to think that no one ever had a crush on me, just because I didn’t know anyone that would. But then things changed, and I’m not sure which is worse: that no one has a crush on you, or that some have, but they’re not your type. And on top of that, you don’t even know your type. You have that first mutual crush for comparison, but it’s wrong to compare guys, it’s wrong to compare relationships, it’s wrong to compare you from the past with you from the present, cause things change and perhaps you’ll never find someone having all his good parts, plus all the other good parts that would make a relationship work this time. So why keep comparing, then? Why think that because a guy lacks something your first crush did not, it makes the guy less likely to be worth even trying? Cause the truth is, you don’t know anything before you try. But before that, your intuition comes, and then your standards, and then your non-types, and then the realisation that the amount of feelings you have for that person are below the minimum necessary to decide it may be worth a try. Sometimes that’s wrong, of course, but it’s you who decide what to choose.

This article was supposed to be about anything else than crushes, but the truth is when you are physically crushed by a physical object, it’s hard to think about anything else, right? The same is with having a crush. Or with trying not to imagine a pink elephant if someone tells you not to imagine a pink elephant. It’s all about the mind and imagination, in the end. That’s where the feelings are, but how can you control your feelings when you see him with someone else, except you just saw wrong and it was not him at all? You can’t control if you have a crush or not, if you wait half asleep near the phone or not, can you? ‘You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world…but you do have some say in who hurts you.‘ I guess that’s true.

But still, if Z. has a crush on Y. , and Y has a crush on X., then what should Y.ou do? Keep going forward and aim high, on X., or turn around and wait for Z.? Keep your dignity and all the promises you made to yourself, regarding which type ‘the one’ should fit in, or not fit in? Or realise not everything is black and white only? I don’t know. Right now I’m not sure of anything, to be completely honest. Not even of this article’s title.

1/2 a <3 (A Valentine's Day Short Story)

halfAheartShe always could barely wait for the first day of each month, as it was the day when donations came in. When she could finally catch a glimpse of what the normal people were wearing or using – not that she wasn’t normal, of course, but it was hard for a girl that lived in an orphanage to own all those amazing items in any other way. This time, she was hoping for a purse – and yes, there it was, right at the bottom of the sack. A brown purse with many pockets, including a little zipped one, so little you could perhaps think it was fake… But wait – what’s this? Something inside, a hard piece of paper, maybe a label… But no, it doesn’t look like a label, it’s not a label at all! It is a little card, not larger than an inch, painted in red and white. Minutely cut in it was half a heart, so that one could see through it the inside of the card before opening it – then, once opened, the full heart is shown, but with an empty half.

14.02.14
For P, hugs & kisses
infinite

It was obviously a Valentine’s letter from one a year ago, and she remained speechless realising how much love and care have been put inside something so little, just by the fact that it was manually designed and written. But… What is something like that doing inside the smallest pocket of a donated purse?! Perhaps the girl who received it forgot it there… She could imagine the smile on the girlfriend’s face when she received it, how she hugged him and thanked him for it, then put it inside that pocket where it fit perfectly, and forgot it there…

But still, who would forget something like this in a bag? Not when it means so much, more than something expensive, actually, cause a hand crafted object takes time, and a piece of your time is the most important gift you can give to someone… Well, this means it didn’t mean so much, in the end. Perhaps she wanted to forget him and left it there, put it somewhere where you could even trick your mind into thinking that the pocket is false, so that you will never see it again… But then, why not simply throw it away?

It’s so small and still full of details, though, that I feel it was made by a girl. And assuming it was meant to a boyfriend P, what is it still doing inside her purse? Again, she couldn’t have just forgotten it there, neither before nor after giving it to him… A shadow of sadness covered her face. This letter never found its destination, cause she changed her mind. Perhaps he broke up with her right on Valentine’s Day last year, which would be so sad, but it does explain it. Or perhaps she felt ashamed in the last minute to give him something so small and inexpensive like a hand crafted paper, but in this case she was more than wrong, as this kind of gifts values sometimes much more than a golden bracelet or so… And indeed it values, or else the little card would have been burned by now – but perhaps even though she did change her mind, she didn’t want to forget. The gift still meant so much, a symbol of what had been, of infinite love, that she couldn’t just erase it as if it was never there, she couldn’t just destroy something she had put so much love into, something she put inside the smallest pocket of her everyday purse, cause it fit so perfectly there, and then carried it with her everywhere, but somehow never feeling the urge to give it to him, not on Valentine’s Day and not even months after that, when there were only the two of them, and the bag, and the card, alone abroad in a place they say it’s the most romantic city… It just never was a proper time, and then it wasn’t anything at all.

Should I then throw it away, or leave it where it belongs, in the old purse that I’m going to give to orphanage, to enlighten someone else’s imagination?… Would I be left with half a heart?

The Power of Music(ians)

guitarRemember one of my previous posts about music, the one describing how awful you may feel just from listening the wrong song at the wrong time? Well, something happened the other day, something similar but completely different.

It was a normal day, which means unusual just for being normal; not a happy day, not an unhappy day, just a regular day. But for some reason I had to go walk into town, lost amongst my thoughts, lost amongst the crowd, when suddenly something caught my attention. And there weren’t my eyes whose attention was caught, but my ears: someone was standing near a wall, singing in a microphone while playing the guitar. Of course, I had seen such street musicians before, so nothing was new. And it wasn’t even a song I knew – but disregarding the choice of the song, I usually stop to leave a few coins as a sign of appreciation, or perhaps as a boost of determination and self confidence. I don’t do it cause I pity them; I do it cause I feel they deserve it, they way you pay for a concert ticket, just this one is more intimate, more mysterious even… You don’t know the guy, perhaps you don’t even recognise the song, but in that infinitesimal period of time that takes you to walk in the area – cause it is infinitesimal compared to the time spent at a concert – you feel that the musician is performing for you only. A unique experience for any of the passers-by, as each of them pays attention to a specific part of the song, until they ears can’t hear any more, or their own thoughts become more overwhelming…

And such a unique experience has to be rewarded, right? They don’t really say a price. You may not listen at all, you may not even hear the song, so no one tells you to stop and put some change in the guitar case, unless you really want to, any amount you want. And so did I. I stopped to put a few coins, but before I left, I did something I’m not sure I usually do to any street musician – or perhaps I do, but his response transformed the moments into something more precious.

I said above I didn’t know the song – I still don’t know it, as I forgot it after I left the place, not until humming it in my mind for a little while. But it was something about that song, about the rhythm, which was not sad, not happy, just something in-between, like a sweet melancholy that overwhelms you when thinking about past moments… His voice also suited the song really well, not too deep, not too high, and his guitar blended in just perfectly – it was actually during a guitar solo that I stopped in front of him. I already knew music and love are somehow bound together: you can fall in love with someone due to a certain song, but you can also fall in love with an activity, a concept, anything, even… life. I know it may sound a cliché, but something like that happened to me right then: I just felt… euphoric, in a way. And although I felt it on the inside, this was reflected on the outside as well, as I found myself smiling the guitarist after dropping the coins.

Now, I suppose it’s not uncommon to smile after such a gesture. I’ve probably smiled before in these situations, just little smiles, which may mean compassion, appreciation, a boost of self confidence and also something like ‘Hey, I saw you, I heard you singing, thanks, I liked it, here’s some spare change. That’s what you wanted, right? Everyone’s happy now, so I may just smile a little to emphasise my kindness’. That kind of smile. The polite one, that usually gets a polite nod back from the singer, and perhaps even a subtle smile in exchange as well.

But that time, it was different. That music made me smile, not the usual kind of smile, but a large, honest, genuine smile. With teeth showing. I don’t know why, it was just something that happened. I wanted to show him I received the message, I understood his music and I appreciated it. I wanted to thank him for those moments, thank him for making me feel special, as if he was performing for my eyes and ears only. Cause I could see that his main priority wasn’t to make money from performing; he was just doing what he liked to do, in a way that made the others like it as well. He was the star of his own concert even though people would ignore him when passing by, and I respected that. I wanted to be able to share all of that through a smile, a real smile. And I know I managed to, cause he replied in order to let me know that he received my feelings. How? With another large, genuine smile, of course.

Although it all took a couple seconds before I continued my way and he continued singing that song, they somehow made a difference for me that day. Those moments proved me that indeed, there are reasons to smile every day even from the simplest things. And they also reminded me that happiness should be shared, that a smile which is returned can make someone’s day, and that I should continue paying attention to street singers – especially those who are not performing for someone in particular, but in the same time they are for you only.

Smile, it’s free! 😀

A Mate for Your Soul – Writing 201 Challenge

soul

‘My boyfriend’s thinking about marriage.’
I could feel the tears tickling my eyes already, so I took a deep breath.
‘…and not with me.’

I focused on his face, a little unsure that I did the right thing by choosing him, out of all the possible persons, to discuss such a delicate issue with. I’m not sure what made me tell him about that, actually – I tend not to talk about such problems. But his voice echoed with concern when he pronounced the same words that have been haunting me for a while, and suddenly all my incertitude dissolved. ‘Soul-mates…?’

I didn’t expect that, but I admit I should have seen it coming. To be honest, I didn’t even expect him to listen, to understand, or at least to try to understand. But I suppose it’s always shocking to realise your younger brother is not so young anymore. You blink once, and he’s grown so much… I forced myself to smile a little. ‘Perhaps yes, perhaps no. We will never know’.
‘We will eventually, in the end… Remember all the fairy-tales daddy used to tell us? The ones with happy ending, when the princess meets her soul mate and everything’s perfect… ‘

Yeah… That’s not how life really is. I mean… I’m not sure I believe in such things. Not anymore. I doubt two souls on this planet can match perfectly, like two puzzle pieces, and even if they are, I consider souls to be immortals; then who can guarantee my soul-mate and I would live in the same… century?! Plus I don’t see how you decide you’ve found your soul-mate. Maybe tomorrow you’ll meet someone new, who matches even more than your current ‘soul-mate’. I think the only thing that we can do is to find someone suitable for us, while we are aware that there may be others on this planet who are probably far more suitable. And people do change in time. No matter what they say, they really do. I guess it takes a while to see who changes accordingly to yourself, so that you continue to ‘match’ along the whole life.

It would be easier not to believe in soul-mates, I guess. Cause if you believe, you’ll spend your whole life searching for him. And you’ll miss all the others. All the others who you decide they’re not for you, cause you’re waiting for something else, without even knowing what. Something special, I guess. But perhaps that someone special just needs a chance from you, and you’re not giving it cause you decide you want to keep searching. Or waiting, or whatever. Maybe the guy you refused when he offered to help you with the shopping bags deserved a chance. Maybe that creepy guy who keeps talking to you isn’t that creepy. Maybe you should go outside rather than waiting for a miracle to fall from the sky.

I remember a book (now a really sweet movie) about true friendship and true love, about old childhood friends and their quest to find that best someone for each of them, when perhaps what they were searching for was right in front of their eyes… Cause what if you won’t find a pot of gold ‘Where Rainbows End‘, as the old legend says, but someone special instead? You can never know what waits for you there, somewhere. And another nice ‘quest’ is ‘In search of a love story‘, which made me realise that a romantic life which seems perfect may not be what you really want, and that being a ‘hopeless romantic’ which compares guys with personalities from books is quite a bad idea. There’s no prince charming out there. There’s no bad guy either, they’re all a mixture of both.

However, if you think you’ve found someone that is worth fighting for, good for you. Fight for him. Cause if soul-mates do exist, then nothing will stay in your way. But just make sure he’s the right one, for that moment, cause no one knows what will happen if-

‘Do you believe in soul-mates then?’
I blinked, still lost amongst my thoughts. I don’t like when someone interrupts my chain of thoughts, but-
‘I mean for yourself, not for your ex’.
That last word made my heart sank a little, exactly what I needed to make my mind focus. I even managed to force a smile.
‘A little faith didn’t hurt anyone, right?’ Although as soon as the words left my lips, I knew that wasn’t true – I could feel it, actually. Feel the faith going away, while disappointment took its place; and disappointment hurts.

‘Do you?’

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