fairy tales for grown up


Night. And again there was no sleep. A week ago he told me: “Sorry, but we will not succeed. It’s not you, it’s me. No offense…”

These words, in different variations, I’ve heard countless times. And sometimes they just disappeared without words. And it was painful and hurtful.

Again, though: “What, what am I doing wrong? Why am I so unlucky? Well, I’m not ugly, not stupid, not some kind of desperate.

…Just all is not in joy because in my life there is no Love.
In my life, there is absolutely no Love.

“I thought, I cried and at some point, I fell to my knees and, turning to the ceiling, I prayed passionately: “Lord! You know you are welcome! I so want to Love! I can not live without Love! Let Love come to me! Please, please! “.
And God heard me.

“I came,” said Love. – Look at me.

She was sitting in the armchair by the window. She looked very tired, like a domesticated housewife who had been tortured.

Apparently, doubts reflected on my face, because she grinned and said:
“I’m changing faces. I can be…”
It instantly flowed into the image of the delightful, sparkling and inaccessible Snow Queen.

“And this…”
In place of the Queen sat a five-year-old boy, smeared with chocolate.

“And this” …
A gentle image of a young thin girl playing the violin.

“And this…”
So probably, looked the passionate, fiery, indomitable Carmen.

“In general, everyone has his own idea of me” – she summed up.

And again in the armchair was sitting the exhausted housewife.

“You called me? What for?” – Asked Love impatiently.

“Well, why?” – I was confused. – I want Love. I want you in my life. Always. Everyone has Love, and I must have.

“I do not owe anything to anyone,” Love said softly. “Wherever, I hear the word “should”, I do not live. I’m leaving. Or I’m dying.”

“Are not you immortal?” – I was surprised.

“I’m often killed. But I’m resurrecting like a Phoenix bird, and I’m reborn in another place, in a different capacity, in a different way. So in a sense, yes, I’m immortal.”

“But how can one kill Love?” – I continued to ask.

“They kill me with: Claims. Insults. A lie. The betrayal. Jealousy. The desire to possess undivided. And mostly with the word “should” – sadly answered Love. – In its history, people have come up with very, very many ways to kill Love.”

“Yes, love is often unhappy,” I said softly.

“No, my dear. Love is happiness. If Love is unhappy, then it’s not me, you just mistook me for something else”

“But what can be confused with Love?” – I was even more surprised.

“With a passion. With the desire to be at least to someone necessary. With the desire to prove that you are not worse than others. With hidden self-interest. People are such confused. Most of them just do not know what True Love is.”

“But wait … After all, I read so many books about Love! Everyone knows what Love is … Romeo and Juliet… Othello and Desdemona… Anna Karenina…”

“Baby, what are you talking about?” Love threw up her hands.
“Do you really think that it’s me, Love that persecute…I that press the soul and destroy?”

“But this is all because of Love ?! Because of you? Is not it so?”

“No,” Love replied sadly.
“It’s because of fear. Fear of losing. Fear of being rejected or deceived. Fear of being alone. Fear of condemnation. It’s Fear that kills Love.”

I was completely confused, I had a complete mess in my head. Everything that seemed firm and unshakable, began to lose clear outlines, to become fluid and ephemeral.

“But then… which one are you really?” I asked.

“The best thing about me is said in the Holy Scripture,” Love replied, and with pleasure she cited:
“Love is patient, it is kind, Love does not envy, Love does not exalt itself, does not boast, does not behave excessively, does not seek its own, does not irritate, does not think evil, and do tot rejoices in unrighteousness but rejoices in the truth, covers everything, believes everything, hopes everything, endures everything.”

“He hopes everything, he tolerates everything…” I repeated mechanically. – “Yes, probably. If you say. I agree to believe everything, to bear everything. And I still hope! And you do not come and do not come! Why are you bypassing me?”

“Because you’re afraid of me,” Love explained wearily. – “I come, I stand side by side, but you prefer not to see me. And you do not take me into your heart.”

“I? Am I afraid of Love? – I was indignant. – But this is not true!”

“You’re afraid of pain.” For you, Love is an unavoidable pain.”

“Then is not so?”- I asked passionately.

Love was beginning to annoy me with its paradoxes.

“Not that way!” Said Love angrily. – “There is no pain in me. People have made it up. I am beautiful. Easy. Free. I’m like a butterfly on a palm. Did you ever hold a butterfly on your palm?”

“Well, yes, in my childhood,” I remembered. – “I stood very quietly and admired, almost did not breathe, and she crawled along the palm and wings touched, and it was so funny and tickling …

“What happens if you grab the butterfly by the wings or clench your fist?” – continued Love.

“She’ll die,” I said softly.

“I’m also dying when they try to hold me. Clamp in the fist… Sometimes I’ve been just and kept and shown as a trophy.” – Love said sadly.
“What are you doing to me, people? And with yourself…”

There was a painful pause. We were silent. Before me, images from my own life rushed past. How many times have I clenched my fist and grabbed for the wings…
Then I grieved over the cold corpse of Love, not understanding why she died. Love understanding said as if she heard my thoughts:

“Yes, you behaved like an unreasonable child. Grab, hold, not let go, take prisoner. It’s so human!”

I looked at Love with a new, completely different look.
Here sits in the chair the Light-winged Butterfly, which was turned into an Exhausted Housewife.
I did it, I turned her in this! All by myself, no one forced me, and again I demand something from her.
All demand something from her, all they demand, all demand…Then, they themselves tighten their fists and tear off fragile colored wings.
Tears rose, rose, and suddenly sprinkled from my eyes, like a spring rain.

“Love, but what can I do for you?” I asked through tears.

“Accept me as a gift. And do not interfere with free flight. Just give me a place on your palm, – Love asked.
I, too, have become so bored of people…”

“You’ll never leave again?” I asked.

“I never went away, – said Love. I am always near. And I always wait…”

… I guess I had good, light dreams. Because I woke up with a smile. And when I opened the curtains, I saw that it had lightly rained at night. The puddles were glittering, parade, and the foliage was glossy and renewed. The world was renewed and very joyful. And from one side, on the glass sat a magnificent, incredibly beautiful butterfly.

1 thought on “Love”

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