The power of expression

15 years ago, in highschool,  I lost the biggest love of my life, because for almost 18 months I was afraid to admit how I felt about him until he started to treat me like a sister. 12 years ago I met quite a copy of him in London, where I worked during my studies. I was dying to go to bed with him, but what would he think of me, what would my family say…And I didn’t let him know what he meant to me…

These two stories haven’t just dusted dully at the attic, no, they are sitting right beside me at my desk reminding me what a coward and looser I was. Still, years later I would choose relatively safe relationships options where men were steady and boring enough not to paralyze me with their gorgeous body, strike me with their intellect like a lightening does often to some lucky tree, or kill me with their smile so that I’d melt directly into a cup of tea I am drinking while sitting in front of him. No, I would avoid that kind of men and that kind of emotions making life worth living. I would be like a spider residing comfortably in a dark and dirty corner of a room and run away on a sound of hoover approaching. I would be scared to by sucked by someone’s passionate gaze, luring touch and steaming sexuality. But not today…

…because the fear of expressing and being reproved, laughed at or rejected was not worse that the pain of and the insanity of suppressing the feelings. I thought how can one be a good artist and live in a castle of creative expression and be surrounded by rose gardens of his/her artistic efforts, if they don’t dare and tell the simplest and the most beautiful words on Earth “I think I have fallen in love with you”?!

I know it is bloody difficult…and just like with an artistic piece, once the word is out, the whisperer has no control of it and doesn’t know how the receiver will react. But it doesn’t matter, because one is already free.

2 thoughts on “The power of expression

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