Love.
They say love is something nice, sublime, something that carries us through life, brave, gives us strength to be better. They say love is a noble feeling. That she initiates and motivates us and that she is the purpose of life. How much love can be strong, how much love is strong, I have been convinced in countless situations in the dozens of literary works I have read. Once he told me that I had become a real little bookmaker and that I would lose in all these stories, that I would lose a sense of reality. I told him to let me down, not to understand. It's not just some stories there, written because someone was bored. These are stories with the lesson. I told him to find us in some of them, and you know him. He laughed at it and said I was not crazy. He always smiled when I put out a book in the bag where I wrote all the quotes that reminded me of him and when I was so delighted to read it. Then I did not know that I would once again rewrite the poem of Vesna Parun, who has your hands innocent of mine. Djordje Balašević said that love does not always win, but it is unbeatable. And somewhere I read once and that when we love someone we give him the power to destroy us. All of us while we were girls, combing barbies, dreamed we would one day live their fairy tales. We all believed that princes existed. We believed that we would once experience theirs and lived happily for the rest of their lives. But as time passes, all the illusions break down. Castle castles, chariots are turned into dust, princesses are hurt, and princes are transformed into boys who fall in love with the heart. And this sentence ending with every fairy tale turns into a memory for the rest of your life. Questions What would it be? Was not I really good enough? Is she better? Why? And so, in vain. Happiness is a relative term. We find it in small things. We find it in the lick of leaves under the feet, in the morning coffers, in chocolates, in the hands of long conversations. And most importantly, we find happiness in the happiness of those we love most. Today, while walking the streets of an abandoned city, town and my love, I drink all of you. And tears and pain. You're not guilty. Nobody is guilty. I do not want you to curse and curse. You are with him now. You have the most valuable thing I had in my life. Most beloved. You have that little hand of my smile, those eyes from which all my happiness has sprang up, the strongest embrace in which I find refuge from all the problems. Part of me is now with you. That part I loved most. And worse is to feel replaced. When you see that someone else is what you were. But I do not want you bad. I should never dare to wish him wrong. Nevertheless, I was once more important to me than myself. And to be born again, I would not change anything. I know I've been doing my best. I do not know where I made a mistake. Maybe he was too much to love, I do not know. I did not love anyone so much. Probably no one and I will not. But sometimes it's best to let it go. I let it go. Nobody knows how hard it was to tell him he could go freely and know he would do it. It is difficult to live with the fact that so many things went into the basket with the name never again. You know, I've been planning my whole life with him. And then, one morning, I woke up and realized that he was not as happy as it could be. I've seen him kick you, and I hope you will never know what the feeling is wrong for someone who is right for you. People told me I was not normal, I had to fight for what I loved. But what? May I be happy and he is unhappy? No, I can not allow it. I could not forgive myself for that. Now it's up to you. You who have hands innocent of mine, guard him. Please. Be with him when he needs it. And he likes it. Do not, please do not ever hurt him. Have some understanding of some of his nonsense. And do not ask him to change. That's what it is. and so, believe me, it may be the best in the world. I hope he will. Maybe it sounds weird and weird, but I want you all the nicest.
Beware of me, you who have hands innocent of mine.