Always. Never. Part II

    Somehow, I started to love you. I started to genuine love you because everything seemed so easy with you, and without knowing it, you gave me energy, you gave me hope and strength, that I could do anything and that I could solve all my problems. You gave me the courage to resign from my former employee who has not paid me for a year and a half, you gave me the opportunity to choose you and to give up the people I always thought were "family". You silently revived in me the feeling that I can, that I exist, that I deserve, that I no longer have any reasons to feel insecure, weak, ugly or fat or mean or unworthy of judgment and ridicule for everything I have done wrong in my life. And it felt so good. It was good when we had 1 dollar on the credit card to get 2 juices from Lidl. It was good, it felt good, and my soul, although overwhelmed, with worries and stress that I can't describe ... it felt safe, it felt at home with your soul.

 💔😪

    I met your friends, I met your family, I met your baby ... I still remember what emotions were trying me when we first met. I was so scared that she wouldn't like me, I had so many thoughts, oh God. But her innocence struck me then like a thunder. She hit me so hard when I saw her inside me, I saw myself, as she had the same age I had when my parents got the divorce. And probably, in time, I just wanted to help, to learn, to be good, to be responsible, to be the best. Because I had no one to teach me ... nothing and no one, not even when suffering or the fact that you can't unite broken links through logic or reason, but only through love.

Nobody taught me what love is. But, I have learned that God is love, and the more love there is in the soul, the stronger I do not "submit" to the material world, succeeding in transforming evil into good after a while. Outside you can get upset, angry, have despair, that's not scary. The important thing is that the soul, inside, emanates love. It's an art you don't learn all of a sudden, but I'm starting to learn at least ideologically what that entails. Maybe my soul is too deep, too loaded, and maybe sometimes I don't know how to handle the storms inside it. But I don't know if that makes me a bad person.

In time and seeing my behavior due to the incapacity of managing my struggles, you started rioting. You were bothered by everything I said to your kid, not understanding that kindness, without some discipline, does not help, but destroys. Kindness becomes something taken for free, without learning the lesson of gratitude, compassion, love and help. And you confused my "involvement" with lack of love. Which hurt a lot, because no matter how much I wish it was the other way around, not many people manage to genuine love your child so much. And not because she is a kid and deserves to be loved, but because there is no more kindness or love among us, maybe only self-love to others, hence the inability to offer something so precious.

I got over it, you know? As I said above, I overcame the suffering, fast-forward, giving way to hope, the bad one this time, the one I was talking about in the beginning. Then your father died. And no matter how hard you try, you can't fully understand me, because I don't act like other people, I'm not like other people and I don't blame you, it's not like anyone ever understood me, except God . Although ... I blame you. You have given me the security that God has given me. Did I have high expectations of you that you would understand me when others did not want to or could not? Or did I make an idol of you, to whom I worshiped?

I've been through this suffering, you know? But it's not fast-forward anymore, it's slow-motion. It's a torture filmed from the outside in slow motion, to give me time, to give me the time to bring out the other sufferings and show me that I can heal them. That I am strong, that I can, that I am able to cross mountains without breathing, to accept myself as I am at times or when others do not.

Yesterday ... I realized that something had broken in you and that your love ... hadn't existed for a while ... that it had been destroyed and dissipated by what I had done, by lies, by pride, words thrown with hatred, by pain ... and despite the impression you left me the last time you told me that you love me, that love no longer exists. And that's fine. Love must heal and if it didn't work out for you, it wasn't enough ... or I wasn't. .....

A few years ago, a priest told me that during The Easter fasting, I should make a habit of analyzing everything I had done and asking for forgiveness from all the people I had wronged and those who tt seems to me that they have wronged me, that in one form or another, my attitude has made them act to hurt me, that is, in other words, I also "deserved it." So, I wrote all these lines to you, so that in one way or another, to apologize. Please forgive me for any wrongdoing, any unjust action or behavior, any misjudgment of mine, any unfulfilled expectations. Please forgive me for whatever you wanted me to do and didn't do or for whatever you wanted me to say and didn't say. I beg you to learn all the lessons you are allowed to learn from the relationship we had ... and to be truly happy. I wish you sincerely to discover the true happiness, the one that we were not able to offer ourselves until the end, until the end of our life together.