"The future with you terrifies me, and the relationships of my life have flown by so quickly that I can convince myself that I'm not alone and time has not passed. And Caroline reminds me of the proud The only clue."
I don't love her, but I can't deny that I care about her. She was just one of the girls in my class who had a one-night stand with me 20 years ago, but when I got older and found that I couldn't save the years, when my former glory and pride gradually faded, I panicked took her. We only meet occasionally, she is always flying all over the world, we don't talk deeply, we just make love in a ritualistic way, just to pass the loneliness and vent our desires. This state is very good. She never asks for a title and pursues marriage. I can always live the advertised free life by words and deeds. For me, there is no "Affair."
I always thought that at my age, I had lost the ability to love, but all this until I met you, Consville.
I covet your beautiful carcass, your ambiguous eyes, your graceful frown and smile, you speak English with a strong Spanish accent, the desire to get you occupies my mind, but there is nothing I can do, I am jealous Crazy, even if I have you, I feel terrified that one day a man younger than me will take my place, and you will never belong to me, I am just a thousand passers-by in your life, When you recall me again, you will lightly say to your husband: He taught me how to love you.
But no matter what, I love you, I'm madly in love with you. At first glance, I was already fascinated by you, and you were late for my first class in college. Although you tried your best to sit down quietly through the crowd, but I found you. From the moment you smiled at me, you wore a simple and neat white shirt and simple jeans, but your body exuded a mysterious and elegant atmosphere. At the cocktail party at the end of the semester, I deliberately approached you to talk to you about art and literature. I used my profound knowledge accumulated over the years to seduce you with the charm of an old man. Fortunately, I did it.
To me, you are like a work of art created by God. Your eyes are very similar to Goya's Maha. It is you who ignited the long-lost passion in my life.
After the play, I invited you to my house, and you agreed. Your embarrassment, I am at a loss, we are like first love men and women, shyly silent, you stand in the corner, light and shadow meet faintly, your delicate profile, your long brown hair that is loosely scattered, your slightly warped little The tip of your nose, your sexy body swaying back and forth rhythmically against the wall, that touch of strong spring light squandering the fiery Latin style, I quietly watch you, immersed in the whirlwind scenery of the hut at this time, playing for you A piece of piano music, ushered in your silent gaze. Then everything is so natural after that. My lips imprinted on your cheek in a panic, your slightly open red lips, your flawless skin, this is the kiss of an old man, the joy an old man can give you, I am afraid what I can give you It's not enough, with you, I'm ridiculously hoping for eternity, and when the time comes to encounter passion, I'm helpless. I'm trapped in the devil's block of jealousy and lack of self-confidence. I'm holding you in my arms right now, and I can't stop thinking about how many men you've had in your life, and the slutty look you have when you're with them. Torturing me deeply, I am constantly afraid of losing you.
Your warm hands and fiery eyes exchange for ridiculous disbelief and withdrawal. You have invited me to your birthdays, family dinners, your graduations countless times, and your persistence has deepened my doubts about myself. But I couldn't resist the threat of your tears, I compromised, I imagined countless times that you would hold my hand and walk through the crowd, facing everyone's strange eyes, they would say: How are we not a good match, how I am aging And on that day, the little white dress made you more delicate, the tied bun was dignified and elegant, and the tiny lines at the corners of your eyes were so sexy. I want to use my hand to gently wrap the broken hair around your ear for you, but I am afraid.
Please forgive my cowardice, I really don't know what's wrong with me, maybe I'm still afraid of commitment, maybe I'm used to freedom for many years, maybe I still miss the romance of the flowers, maybe I just don't dare to love you. You are 24 and I am 60. For example, no matter how hard I try, love is only a short moment, and all that is left is hurt and betrayal.
Perhaps George was right: a beautiful woman suddenly appeared, always striking, and passed away, but we never really saw her. We only see the body, we are blinded by the beauty of the exterior. Falling in love with a beautiful woman is more dangerous than anything else.
On the day of the graduation party, I stayed at your door all the time, sitting in the car. I made up my mind to open the car door countless times, but I finally did not have the courage. I feel sorry for your disappointment and resentment. I went home and heard your message: You said you truly loved me. But I can't satisfy you with such a small wish, how can I still love you. The icy floor is cold to the bottom of my heart, I keep listening to your message, over and over again~ I think we are finally over.
In the days without you, there seems to be no more fear. In the past two years, I have completely lost contact with you, and I do not want to hear any news from you.
Until one day, George, my dearest friend, left. When he was alive, our two associations used to go to that cafe to sit down, pick a window seat, talk about recent life, share all the secrets of old age, and truly feel the youthful past. Before he passed away, he hugged me tightly, kissed me fiercely, and then disappeared. I knew his reluctance, but I never expected his departure to be so sudden. His wife asked me: "I wonder if he knew who I was when he kissed us?" "I think he always knew."
At that moment, I was no longer afraid of death, I was just afraid of not being able to kiss you before I died.
Going retrograde through the flow of people, I couldn't see the faces hurriedly passing by. I stood there unconsciously, letting the crowd invade. The strange thing is that I can't feel the trace of time at all, and my heart is completely empty. For 60 years, I thought that I was in control of my life. Now I am just a clown who was molested by life. I began to doubt the meaning of life. I am still used to sitting in that cafe occasionally, with dull eyes, pretending to talk to myself, admiring the marriage and commitment that I have always ridiculed around me. Conswella, how I miss you.
I miss every moment we spent together, the seaside we went to, your messy hair blown by the sea breeze, your dark green windbreaker, your beige scarf, the corners of your mouth with resolute curves, your blurred eyes, When you run, you smile freely, you lie quietly in my arms, every inch of light casts for you under the sun, you are the bloody poppy that grows wildly in my heart, I am willing to use my eyes to help you record everything . I regret that I didn't see you earlier, I can see you step by step to witness your growth, I regret that I didn't meet you later, maybe you were old at that time, so I could love you more firmly.
This long and unbearable longing didn't stop until I received your phone message. You said that you had something important to discuss with me. This time, I completely collapsed. The defense line in my heart collapsed in an instant. I crouched in the corner by myself and wept like crazy. I know, you must have met a very good one. Young man, you are getting married. For so many years, I was afraid that one day you would tell me the news yourself, but it happened.
You said you wanted to come to my apartment, and then you came. Two years later, you have changed, the long brown curly hair is now handsome short hair, your eyes are still the same deep and charming, but the corners of your tightly pursed mouth betray your haggard and paleness, when you convince yourself to tell calmly Time stood still for us when you had breast cancer.
You gently take off your clothes, take the pose of Maha in Goya's brush, put your hands behind your head, look straight into the camera, with a deep melancholy, you ask me to record your last beautiful appearance, At that moment, I seemed to hear a broken voice, I don't know if it was the camera, or my heart was broken.
It turns out that it is not your seductive body or the desire I have been infatuated with for a long time that I have fallen in love with, but the most real you, Consville. Even if you are as beautiful and timeless as ever, or as broken and pale as you are now, I think I love you as a whole.
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