<\/p>\n
Monday morning. That kind of Monday that everybody would cancel for an undetermined period. Not her though.
She wakes up without the regular voices in her head. For the first time, there\u2019s silence there. No pain, no longing, no exhaustion. Nothing other than peace. It feels good. Her shoulders now feel like flakes, she stretches her body and stares in the mirror.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
For the first time in more than 9 years, she looks at the sign on her chest, touches it, and sees it as a tattoo. Life has painted a tattoo on her chest to remind her of her second birth. For the first time in 9 years, the touch of it no longer feels like a punishment. Everything looks and feels different today. Her hair is shiny, her skin glows, her lips sing incessantly.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
It\u2019s a rainy day today. She\u2019s in the mood for a walk in the park nearby. She takes her headphones and connects her beating soul to the rhythm. \u201cIt\u2019s a good day to make decisions\u201d, she thinks, and she starts to walk. Step by step, gaze by gaze, lyric by lyric, she moves forward. She chooses to be well, to grow; she chooses to remain wild but gentle at the same time: she loves paradoxes. She herself is one of them: she looked death in the eye more than 4 times, but she wanted to live so much that death had no choice but to retreat waving her goodbye.<\/p>\n
Funny thing – choices. She chooses (to choose) herself over everything else, starting now. It\u2019s a choice she makes every second and she\u2019s owning it. Fully. She chooses to start to be the main character in her life, in her story.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Her thoughts are interrupted by a short, bold \u201chi\u201d. She suddenly comes to her senses. There he was, 2 years later, standing in front of her as if nothing had happened.
\u201cHow are you?\u201d he asks while she doesn\u2019t have any reaction. She can\u2019t decide whether to ignore him or to slap him. She chooses a third option: \u201cHi. I\u2019m fine, thank you.\u201d
\u201cIt\u2019s been a long time\u201d, he continues. \u201cYes, indeed.\u201d, she replies.
They look at each other like they did 4 years ago when they first met.
\u201cI was on my way to grab a coffee and something to eat, would you care to join me?\u201d he asks her. She stares at him in silence, blinking from time to time. \u201cIt would be nice to hear more from you. How have you been?\u201d, he insists. \u201cPretty lonely, she says, but that\u2019s not a bad thing at all. I\u2019ve had time to put my thoughts in order, to change and grow, and now I\u2019m a whole new person.\u201d
\u201cSounds interesting, I would like to meet the new you\u201d, he says.
She smiles and states: \u201cYou wouldn\u2019t like the new me. She\u2019s just\u2026 out of your league.\u201d
He nods his head in resignation and dares to put her chestnut hair behind her left ear, just like he used to in the past. She stops breathing for a second. It still has that effect on her.
\u201cIt was nice seeing you\u201d, he says.
She forces a smile.
He approaches her: \u201cLoneliness comes and go\u201d, he whispers while hugging her.
\u201cSo do people\u201d, she said, and she let go.<\/p>\n
Rain was falling. She was rising.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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Monday morning. That kind of Monday that everybody would cancel for an undetermined period. Not her though.She wakes up without the regular voices in her head. For the first time, there\u2019s silence there. No pain, no longing, no exhaustion. Nothing other than peace. It feels good. Her shoulders now feel like flakes, she stretches her…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":210,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_s2mail":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-209","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-storytelling-in-the-rain"],"aioseo_notices":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/eusuntdelia.ro\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/pexels-photo-459301.jpeg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/eusuntdelia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/209","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/eusuntdelia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/eusuntdelia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eusuntdelia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eusuntdelia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=209"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/eusuntdelia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/209\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":213,"href":"https:\/\/eusuntdelia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/209\/revisions\/213"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eusuntdelia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/210"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/eusuntdelia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=209"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eusuntdelia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=209"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eusuntdelia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=209"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}