Memories

She is like the sun. She brings with her all the calmness and the storms that inhabits the world. She is the resplendent horizon, the sound of joyful birds, the dawn that brings good news, the heavenly sweetness, the cruel damnation, the irremediable silence. She is now also an absence and her heart suffers from a longing that leaves her sick and sad. 

How to return to her arms, to her presence? An abysmal distance separates them and with that she only finds questions without answers. Their paths have changed, night has fallen and not even her voice can be heard. However, the fairy needs to be honest. Lately, she managed to be happy again. To be away from her presence, however, makes her feel like something is missing from her life. Because of that, what she feels is another kind of joy.

But she needs to say how she regained her happiness, even if it is a happiness so different from the one she had when she was near the sunflower, surrounded by trees and the castle. It's a good feeling that comes from her work and from her friends - who make her laugh - and from the task she gave herself, which is: to dedicate herself to fall in love with being alive again.

But, she would be lying if she said that she feels complete. Never before had she experienced such sensation. And, despite the recent joys, she really wants to shout out to the world all the love that flows from her chest and all the longing she feels for her. She just wanted to be able to have her close, hear her laugh, watch her way of talking and looking. How can someone have such deep eyes?

She sees the world in details, she knows how to observe and emanate all the most sincere answers, that comes from her very intelligent findings. Maybe that's what she misses the most: her intelligence. She had never known anyone who had such wit and such vast knowledge. At the same time, there are so many other qualities in her, that this is just one in a whirlwind of good things.

And that's why the fairy writes, to leave printed in her confession journal all the records of the fairy's perspective on her beloved. She writes to release all the emotions stuck in her throat, to try to heal herself of this searing passion, to try to reframe the image she has of her, to try to get this feeling out of her heart and spread it everywhere.

Of course, the sunflower was not exactly a passion. Actually, what the fairy wants is to talk about love. How could she believe she felt such a genuine feeling, relying only on months of closeness? She doesn't know, but that is the thing about love, isn't it? She loves her and that's the truth. She loves her like she's never loved another song. It's profound, simple, selfless, a little painful and nonsensical. 

It is a love of the worst kind: unrequited, impossible, unusual. But, the fairy doesn't want to end her writing in a sad way. At least, not for today. She will end her confession with happy phrases, with happy memories and sweet words. She will tell about this strong and incisive sunflower, who invaded her life to save her, to show her a new world, to make her believe more in herself and in life. 

Knowing the sunflower was the greatest gift of her existence, it was recognizing what love is capable of, it was learning how to be sunny and love herself, it was everything she always wanted, in the form of afternoons with coffee, confessions, smiles and an eternity of discoveries.