What I hate above all is criticism, especially when the people who I love the most are the ones who criticize. In order to express my love to them I free my behaviour from all the bindment, so they could see me in all my sincerity and they could exist as quiet witnesses of the simplicity of my being. Not many are given the chance for that, only the chosen ones. My sadness is great when, with time, I become assured that maybe I was wrong. My heart has anticipated my inner sense and I got wounded by the strike of words that have changed the whole sense of my hopes and assurance in which I have hidden all my insecurity. The words have torn my shields and now I am naked in front of the illusions that have transformed themselves in the warriors attempting to force me to confront all my blemishes.
These words mean no harm, I am sure they don’t, but they make it. I surely am my own greatest judge and I do not need one more who will test my endurance. There is a certain measure of trust which is needed to make the love go lingering on and on, to heat up the feelings, to transform the daily boring circuit to a magical existence of the two beings loving one another no matter what. No matter what. What have I done wrong? Have I acted in a way that made the things go bad? Or have I just exposed my imperfection to your high expectations? I do not know, if you don’t tell me.
I am just dazzled and confused… But I still do love. More than anything in this world… You.