On the beginning of my twenties I used to date an older guys. They made me feel special; they made me feel spoiled. Simply, I felt as a young girl should feel: like a princess. From them I learned how to be grateful to my youth, how to enjoy the time and the present moment, further on to dream big, to explore my inner world, to understand how to love my body, the other person, their fears and worlds around us. They loved me, they admire me, they broke me and eventually helped me to grow up. I still love those few individuals and their madness as I love my favorite writers.
The thing I love about them the most is that they never changed; they remain to be a lunatics, socially unexceptionable, emotionally unreachable, now in their late thirties, but still caring around the boy’s dreams and boy’s heart. They loved life and all manifests of it. I was always smart enough to understand that the only person whom you should try to save from the inner demons is yourself. Even then, success is not guarantied. The funny thing is that I was always ready, despite common sense, as every young believer is, to trade my dreams and my heart for salvation of their brokenness. Luckily or unfortunately, depends of your perception, I was saved by my own demons and my broke illusions at the end.
But that is the new chapter, the broken ones. I loved those men. I think I still do. Those are the most intense and most hopeless emotional relationships; you love his imperfections, but for some reason, which none of evolved understands, you try to fix it; you try to help him. He might asks for the help, but to tell you the truth, he does not really want it; he simply enjoys your good will to sacrifice for him. But, once when you are distanced and you can see clearly what this all was about, you understand how stupid you were, but you do not regret! How fake it was? Fake enough to believe in ti! But, you are young, you are now aware of your innocent blindness and so it shall be forgiven!
As time was passing I spotted the young ones. The beautiful boys with big dreams, but shy individuals. Insecure ones. The ones with a lot of potential to grow up into a men every girl or woman dreams of, but the boys with the lack of courage.
So, what I did? I tried to encourage them. To provoke them to think big, to be brave, to become aware how beautiful they are (I believe everyone is, but I find some people more beautiful then others; the one with the vision I admire the most) and how to keep up with this (re)mark in their lives.
Everyone needs encouragement; someone gets it for free from local lunatics, and the others pay for it with their smashed self-esteem, with their tears, and more important with their lost time.
I am 29 today. I do not need encouragement anymore, but I am truly enjoying to raise awareness of people how beautiful they are, how big they can grow, how far their imagination can take them, if they would only try to believe.
To believe in my words, in the look of a stranger, in the impossible, in their hopes in third person’s dreams, in their own strength. If they would only allowed themselves to escape this judgmental environment, they would discover that there are a parallel universes in their everyday’s lives! Your dreams are reality there; there can become here if you deeply believe in magic.
The truth is: there are people whom trust in you more that you trust in yourself.
Some of my already forgotten loves made their way out of this madness called socially acceptable behavior, adult expectations, real life and the other bullshit. They saved their souls and shared their beauty with those whom are cable to recognize it in their art or simply in their humanity.
There was a lot of, more or less, significant men in my life, even though I cannot recall some of their names. There were also the ones I used to dream about years after, but regardless the fact that I was always surrounded with more men, rather then women during my twenties, the women are those whom truly made an impact in my life, and whom inspired me the most.
I do not know a lot of woman, but those l know I had admired from the beginning.
Those women are storms; they are hurricanes of alien energies, waterfalls of fresh inspirations, and nevertheless, they are goddess and warriors for their believes and dreams; they are braver than any men I ever cross the path with. Each of them is a Catwoman and owns the avenue of her broken dreams, lost loves and past lives. All of them are proud, but, in the same time, humble. All of those women own the universe within.
Women I admire are cats with the puppy look in their eyes, but with the dragon’s fire in their hearts.
Catwoman will save a day. Trust me.