Cold as ice

When she left me, I did not care. When she came back, I did not care. A man does reach much more in life when his heart is stonecold, so a wise man told me. And when a wise man says something, you try it out. And it seems to work. I can focus on my writing, running my little bookstore.

Where I used to be unable to focus, to be dreaming and thinking of her. I was heartbroke when for one moment she forgot to tell me she loved me. Maybe she did forget about it? Maybe I became a habbit to her? Oh, how confused I would make myself. My heart would jump up and down, the moment she said 'have a nice day' without adding, 'my sweetheart', I was convinced it was all over. The love was gone, it was just a matter of time before that beautiful being would walk out on me. And I would be unable to stop her, unable to find love again. If she would leave me, life would end. As simple as that. Just as Werther, I wouldn't see the need to keep on living. My bookshop would go to hell, my writing would only serve a last letter.

Ow, being 19 and ready to leave it all, just because of her. She, who would leave for sure. But the next day she would tell me 'I love you' and I would forget about the sadness, we will be happy forever. As simple as that, she loves me, her kisses taste sweet, her embrase is stronger than ever. This is gonna last forever, Goethe had no idea writing about love! A love that ends was never real love, so who would kill himself for that? Thank God we have true love, and if she ever leaves me, than well no need to leave this world behind. Ow, I was flying high in the sky.

But there she came, out of nowhere and she shot me out of the air. All my feathers flew around when I crashed on the hard, hard ground. I remained there laying, my last breaths in my being as a bird, waiting for the fatal headshot. Oh, I hope that comes fast. But a woman never gives a headshot, she shoots you down and walks away. Expecting you to take ur feathers, get up and fly again. Sadly enough,you can't just take up ur wings. So you remain there on the cold stone floor, just wondering 'why did I fly so high?'. 'I should've flown within limits, so I could have seen her grab the gun, I would have dodged the bullet or at least wouldn't have fallen so deep'.

Anyways, the wise man came around and gave me a simple solution. I asked him to put my feathers back on, to give me a trampoline or a runway to start flying again. But he refused, knowing I would fly too high again and go through it all again. He told me to turn my heart cold. I didn't know how, but it was easy to do in the end. I'm no longer a bird, I'm walking around now. Working in my book store, writing down some stories.

It is good to have a cold heart, I used to see pretty girls everywhere and suffer. Now I just see visitors in my shop, some are male, some are female. Once in a while one catches my eye, but than I take a deep breath, rip of the little wings growing on my back and turn cold. That's how I will live on, I don't feel too bad and I'm sure I won't fall anymore.