Ptitchitza u niskom letu

Somewhere in this city

Maria is. Happy. Or should be.

I am so sorry I have failed her. I failed myself. She seeked a menthor, a teacher, a leader. I tried, but I can not lead. She helped me much more than I have helped her (and I have!). She helps me every day.

She should not be ashamed or remorseful of any she has done or hasn't but wanted to. She should be proud of herself, for saving my life. Every day.

They say if you save a life, you have saved a humanity, and they are right.

I would just like to see her, once in a while, and see for myself that she is happy, or at least happier. Then I have reasons only to cry for myself, and not for both of us. And when I do cry, feeling sorry for myself, I laugh afterwards at myself, for crying over the spilled milk.

She is a wonder of God's creation that I'd like the world to share. That's why I so much mention her. Everybody sees a beauty and strenght in her, except her. And when I cry over her, I really cry over myself, because the same is true of myself.

We could be so good for each other, I will never be able to forget that. "She's not perfect, but she's perfect for me." I will keep "using" the Vision of us, to perfect me, because I do not need a "normal" girl, I need Maria. I am normal (or used to be and will be again) for both of us.