photos

t, Ellen, "he said, at least with false sadness. I hesitated, but knew that no way back. So I left his house in a daze and denied, jumping on a taxi home instead of a tram. When I got home, Margot was reading the magazine in the common room. I said to her I do not know anymore. "What happened?" "We are tan." I was about to say, tell all the pain, but see. My heart is closed, becoming self-protective and calm. "I'm very sorry," she said. I want to talk about it? "I shook my head and said," I do not know ... it's really ... complicated. "And honestly, I find it as complicated as the complexity of every breakup I'm about. insider In fact, it is almost in fact very simple. That seems like this: a person who has no love, and wishes that he could withdraw those words, that promise from the heart. Looking back, I could see that it was the same with Leo and me - the simplest explanation was always right, she still told me. But that time, I did not believe we could be the case. Instead, I still hope that every girl in my situation hopes: that he will change his mind, get back. Feeling, realizing what he got from me, seeing that I was irreplaceable. I did not even think, even shouted out to Margot and Suzanne, "No one loves him as much as I do," which I now realize is not a formidable thing for a man. Even worse, I kept repeating myself in the terrible maxim with the opening words, "If I love something, let it be free." I envisioned Again the balloon poster printed the maxim that my sister put in the bedroom after her farewell break in high school. This verse is written in emotive purple letters, accompanied by a flying eagle flying over the mountains. I remember thinking that no eagle in the world was willing to fly back into captivity. "Damn, he's never been my sister," I always wanted to say that to Suzanne. now. Leo is now the eagle. And yet I'm convinced that he will be the exception to that rule. A bird has to reconsider. So I still wait absurdly, desperately clinging to the belief that our break up is only temporary. And I do not understand, my feelings rise after a couple of reclining. If I was obsessed with Leo when I was with him, then when he was far away, he became obsessed with him. He took every moment of my day making me a version of a lovelorn woman. I dread myself with old messages, with sad songs like Snead O'Connor's "The Last Day of Our Acquaintance." I locked myself in bed, sobbing almost at anytime. I wrote and edited long letters for him to know that he would never send. I completely neglected my appearance (except taking into consideration the occasional gnawing in the candlelit bath) and always hesitated in the middle of fasting or stuffing Doritos with Twinkies back to the end.I can not drive Leo even in sleep. For the first time in my life, I remember every detail of dreams like that, every dream about him, about us. Sometimes bad dreams of his brutal breakup and cold, gradual withdrawal. But sometimes it's interesting dreams - Leo and I spend time in smoke-free cafes or passionate sex, sweating on his bed - and often happy dreams tearing apart. Hearts rather than sad dreams. I woke up, and in a few moments, I really believed that we were back together. That separation is just a dream and that I just have to open my eyes to him right next to me. Instead, the late truth bore itself. Leo came to a new life without me, and I was alone. After several weeks, perhaps months in that state of excess, Margot intervened. It was one in the afternoon on Saturday, and she had just failed in about six consecutive weeks asking me to go out with her. She emerged from the bedroom, looking incredibly seductive in the stylish indigo-colored sweater hugging her hips, and the black pointy boots. She had curled her hair straightened and covered with a spicy curl along her collarbone. "You look so cool," I told her. "Where are you going?" "Go out with your girlfriends," she said. "Are you sure you do not want to go?" "Yeah, sure," I said. "Pretty in Pink tonight." She folded her arms in front of her chest and pouted. "I do not know what you're upset about that. You never really loved him, "she finally said, her voice bluntly as if she was claiming that Pennsylvania's capital was Harrisburg.Look at her with the same eyes as she is crazy. Of course I love Leo. Is not my terrible sadness a big love affair? She continued, "You're just sex. These two things are often confused. "" It is love, "I say, thinking sex is only part of our love. "I still love him. I will love him forever. "" No, "she said. "You just love the notion of love. And now you love the notion of a broken heart ... You're acting like a broken crush. "That was a heavy blow to a woman in her twenties. She sighed. and staring at me with the eyes of the mother. "Have you ever heard that true love is what makes us better? Is your support? "" I was better than Leo, "I say, biting a chestnut. "He supported me." She shook her head and poured out a sermon, the Southern dialect becoming heavier, exactly the way it always was when she was harsh on something. "You're really bad when you're with Leo ... He turns you into a trivial, sloppy, fluctuating, superficial. It's like I never knew anything about you. He's not you anymore. I think the entire relationship is ... unhealthy. "" You're just jealous, "I said weakly, thinking myself not sure if I meant she was jealous that she did not have a lover like Leo. - jealous of him in the position of the most important person in my life. Both hypotheses seem reasonable in spite of the fact that she, like anytime, also has a boyfriend. " I do not think so, Ellen. "Her voice was very convincing, surprisingly exciting at the idea of ​​being jealous of what I had with Leo, to the point that I was flushed out of it. Recall that, "He is really very nice to me." This is the closest approach to something similar to the argument between us, so even though the anger is on fire, I still Feeling extremely stressed, unable to see her eyes. "Oh?" she said. "Okay, if that's true, Ellen, so let me see a nice photo you took of him with him. Just see how he affects you. I put down the ice cream, right in your April issue of Town & Country, and walked over to my rolled-up table in the corner of the living room. I grabbed the drawer, opened a cement paper envelope filled with the picture, and threw the stack of photos onto the front desk. She held them up, glancing one at the same unkempted look as one Move the cards in a card game alone on the computer. "Ellen," she finally said. These pictures ... They just are not that good. "" What do you mean when they say they're not that good? "I say, looking over her shoulder as she looks at the photos of Leo. Leo smiled brightly. Leo reckless thinking. Leo slept on a Sunday morning, curled up beside his dog Jasper. I felt a sharp pain in the unfriendly dog ​​that I never really wanted to play with. Okay, "she finally said again, stopping at a Leo photo I took. last summer. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt with the word "Arita," leaning back on the couch in the central park, looking straight at the camera, looking straight at me. Only his eyes smile. "Look at this, for example," she said. "Good light. Nice layout, I suppose, but it ... just a boring stuff. He's handsome and fine, but how about that? There is nothing but a good looking guy on the bench ... Looks like he's trying too hard. "I gasped, at least in my heart. This offense is probably even worse than I am with a lovelorn teenager. "The effort is too big?" I said, now really angry. "I did not say you tried too hard," she said. "But he's obviously so. Just look at his expression ... He is unnatural, self-conscious. He knows he is being photographed. He knows he is being worshiped. All in him is, 'Look at my sensual gaze.' Seriously, Ellen. I hate this photo. All the

photos you took in the year before you met Leo are more interesting than this photo. "She threw the picture back on the table, and she fell down. I looked at it, and could almost, almost understand what she was saying. I feel the stain of something almost ashamed, similar to the feeling when I overhaul the haiku poetry that I thought admirable. I wrote about summer surfing on the Jersey Shore since back in the day. secondary. The haiku I once proudly sent to a literary magazine, and then felt really stunned when the refusal came in the mailbox.Margot and I stare in a long thought. It was probably the most powerful moment in our relationship, and at that moment, I fell in love with her. Finally she broke the silence first. "I know it hurts, Ellen ... But it's time to move on," she said, forcefully piling the picture back into the envelope. Apparently Leo is no longer