existence means being present, being there...
i exist because i am created by thought.
I live by the words that reveal the true meaning of one's life, one's feelings, one's story. I am real in a sense that I survive through one's thoughts. I tell the story of a unique individual, that is why I exist. I love and have loved, and love is something vast and complicated. Love comes and goes, but the thought is what remains.
Have you read the "Little Prince" by Antoine Saint-Exupery? It is a wonderful book. It's meaning is very enlightening. It's rather heart-breaking at times, but the thought of love is still there. The delicate rose still lives for the young prince. I could be either the prince or the rose. I could be one or the other, or even both. I live because I love. I always thought that I have lived a thousand lives, and yet in every life I lived, I still got hurt. I don't think the hurt in loving ever goes away, but I never stop loving. I tried to, but it still does not make the hurt go away.
It's not always hurt that you will feel when you love. I loved a hundred times before. I loved and still love everyone around me. I love the flowers, who are my friends by the way, they never leave me during the springtime yet they sleep during the winter. I love the sun, he is always there when I am awake, and waits for me when I am asleep. The moon is there to watch me everytime I close my eyes, making sure there is light when I suddenly wake. The stars, I won't forget, are with the moon at night never failing to make me smile. Ah! I love them all! The trees, the birds, the sand, the squirrels, the rocks, the shadows, I love every one of them. Even the newcomers to the world I always knew of, the cars, the posts, the buildings, skyscrapers, even the coins and cups-- I still welcome them. Even though they hurt me, I still fail to hurt them back.
But, not only do I love them. No. I love other things as well, I love other people as well. I once had a rose of my own-- or shall I say, a rock of my own. Yes, he was the softest rock I have ever owned. I loved him so much, but not enough to repay his love for me then. I threw the rock away to the sea, because by that I would have let him be free. I knew he would be happy when someone would find him and pick him up and love him more than I did. I thought what I did was right, but boy, was I wrong! Now, I don't own him anymore. Now he is just like any other rock I see randomly. I want to know what he thinks or what he feels, but I just can't do that anymore. He's out of my reach, I guess. I hurt a lot for so long that it seemed like ages, but now I'm happy because I still love despite of that. I can still smile knowing that I still have the sun, the moon, the stars, the flowers, the mountains, and everything around me. I learned, yes I did, but it doesn't mean that I learned to hate. No! I don't want to hate. Hate is such a strong word. I just learned to still love despite of getting hurt. So now, no matter how many rocks are thrown to me, how many times I get hurt by them rocks, I would not budge, I will still stay firm on my word--that I will still love the way I do, and set free of the rocks the way I did.
-mi cherie
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