Once upon a time, a little princess was born. She was cute, but aren’t all babies cute? She was sweet, but isn’t that what all babies are? Everyone around loved her and wished only the best for her. The little girl grew up with love, care and smiles around her.

Time went on and people noticed that she was not only sweet but smart, not only cute but intelligent, not only lovable but loving and caring. She loved people and trusted them with the unconcern that is only in a child’s nature.
She didn’t divide people into good or bad. Everyone was equally good.

It’s amazing how in our life we rely on people. Even in smallest of our decisions we need their appreciation and support. We want them to stick to us, help us figure out where we went wrong and how to get back to the right path. We need them to tell us what the right path is. And it is not because we trust them too much (well, the truth to be told, we do) but because we trust ourselves too little.

She smiled bitterly at him, tears in her eyes.

Don’t forget to bang the door when you go, he said.

Why?

That’s how people make it final.

Then can you stand at the window and watch me leave?

Why?

As if you still care.

She banged the door. He switched on TV and grinned. Freedom.

Sometimes we lose. We don’t want to but it happens. We can’t control it but it’s there. We cry about it but it is hardly within our powers to change anything. And then we break down.

A person who seemed unbreakable – breaks.
A person who seemed so strong – crumbles.
A person who always laughed it off – cries.
A person who would never stop trying – is about to give up and quit.

They say time heals all.

Does it heal the bruises of hasty decisions?
The ones that haunt you through day and night reminding you of things done and words said.

Does it heal the loss of unforgettable love?
The one which filled your life with sense and broke your heart short after.

Does it heal the confusion of tough choices?
When you know that either ways you hurt someone and they will never forgive you.

From all the mysteries life has gifted us love is the most mysterious mysterybecause everyone has their own answers to the question what love is and yet nobody does.
How many times you have been asked about what love is. And how many times you tried to come up with the answer, which could possibly match all the aspects of love. And how many times you had to compromise with the vocabulary that is never enough to be worth the beauty of this feeling. Countless…

I have not posted any stories recently and it has reasons. Firts, being sick for more than a week, did not really leave me with any options other than bedrest, so no writing. Second, I was busy with other stuff and fiction writing somehow took a long pause. But today I wanted to post here a story. A FICTION one. It is an old one written more than a year ago but it is one of my most favorite stories even if not one of the best ones. Inspired by the song by Hinder “Lips of an angel”, again one of my favorites. They both make me cry, the song and the story. Or maybe that’s just my mood.

As promised, I am back to Tuesday Love Ramblings and am giving you my word that I will be regular with it, mixing old and new ones depending on the workload. For those not familiar with them I want to say only one thing - stick around on Tuesdays and you will grasp the concept. It is really simple. It is all about love. Here. Now. Yesterday. Tomorrow. Just love.

Here is the first one of this series of posts.

“I’m afraid of falling,” she said.
“I have wings,” he whispered.

I have seen this post by Americanising Desi and I totally loved it. And it inspired me to write on the same lines.

We all are different but it seems we all want the same. So here is my list of what a girl wants.

Warning: Long post ahead.
Fairytale

Ok, the knight in shining armor on a white horse might be a little bit overrated, but it still does the trick. He might wear old jeans and a washed up t-shirt though. We don’t mind. As long as he knows the basic structure of a fairy tale.

Jenny rolled over and over in her bed, muttering in sleep, moaning and groaning. It lasted for another hour till she finally woke up. It seemed like those few hours of sleep took its toll on her. Her pale face witnessed the agitation she felt. Was it because of the dream she just had or the latest happenings in her life, she could hardly explain. All she knew was that at no cost she wanted to get back to the world of her tumultuous dreams.

She left the bed, put on a dressing-gown and went to the kitchen. She believed the cup of coffee would pick her up and bring her back to senses. But it didn’t happen. Instead, for a few minutes Jenny was lost in thoughts and then burst out laughing.

“How do I know if this is a true love?” Someone asked me recently.

I was confused. Not that I didn’t know what to answer. In fact I answered instantly. I seem to have had the answer for this question since ages. Maybe I knew it all the time. And now was only waiting for someone to ask me.

“If it’s love it’s true,” I answered.

“How do you know it is love then?” I was asked. I really saw it coming. Nobody would just accept the answer I have given.

To all the girls who make mistakes…
To all the guys who walk out…
Sometimes we all have our questions. We seek for answers and we don’t seem to find any. Was it meant so? Should we make mistakes again and again so that we finally would realize what we are doing wrong? Do we actually realize what we are doing to people who love us? Do we know what they feel? What can we see in their eyes? What does their smile tell us? Is their heart talking to us? Do …

I love you, he whispered. She was sleeping and couldn’t reply but he knew she felt the same. He kissed her gently on her cheek and left the room casting one more glance at the sleeping angel. His angel.
He went down to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. Soon coffee was forgotten as he submerged deep into the thoughts about HER. He couldn’t stop wondering why destiny presented him with such a gift. A gift of pure unconditional love. A gift of the miracle being in his life. His …