Lately, there’s this loneliness in life that I’ve gotten used to.
My mom often tells me I’ve always been an independent girl: quit using a pacifier or a diaper, I did them all of my own free will. At the early age of three, I even decided my mom was never to pick my clothing for me ever again! Result: a few dubious colour and fabric combinations and nothing but patent leather shoes (to this day, I’m still trying to figure that one out…).
With such a strong independent spirit, it was no surprise to my family that I rarely asked them for advice or help. Even when I should have, really.
Now that I’m older, and the things I want are a little more complicated to obtain than a piece of chocolate, a Barbie or a gummy bear, it’s really difficult to rely on my parents.
I crave for my own space, where I can live alone and have everything my way; I long for the day I can finally have a driver’s license and a car of my own; Or simply the day I can finally pay my own vacation to wherever my heart yearns to go. But, unfortunately, the career a chose for myself – although the thing I love the most in this world – it’s not the easiest when it comes to rewarding the people who intensely work hard and give everything of themselves for their craft. That’s when I have to forget my so desired independence and ask for help. And, quite fortunately, it’s always there. My parents have always been the kindest, most supporting people in my life and, for me, they will always come first. They’re my heroes on the journey of life and every sacrifice they’ve ever done for me is engraved in my bones (not because they like to remind me of it, but because I always made sure to take note of them). So, as much as it pains me to depend on them, their love and the freedom which they allowed me to grow with, has no price. And that’s why I stay.
That leaves me with one option, when it comes to independence: love.
Tough one, is it not?
I’ve always believed I would find someone I’d truly love and would let me be me.
So far, my quest to find this so called “perfect love” has been fruitless. Some people have crossed my path, but they never stayed for too long. And, curiously enough, I was always the one left behind.
You could say I got my independence on love. Tough luck that loneliness had to come hand in hand with it. And the kind that makes you question all the decisions you ever made in your life, or sometimes even your own character as a person. The kind that has shared my bed, my thoughts and my heart for quite some time.
The main point of all this talk about independence is quite simple.
And now I’m speaking to you, Mr Nobody.
The next time we meet in the path of our so busy and rushed lives, of you I ask this only: love me. Love me as hard as I know I will love you. When things get hard and complicated, don’t give up on me easy, because I will be fighting with all that I have (even though you cannot see it at times). And when the storm finally ends and the breeze of spring starts to get warmer, there will be an endless summer in my heart. Only then, will I be finally able to say:
“I don’t mind losing a little piece of my independence, if it means I’ll always have you by my side.”