Can it be that, by the force of his imagination, we can dream to the one who has always been not so far from us and that we want to see really closer ... to finally meet him? That's what I just lived. This meeting was for me an extraordinary thing. A man came to me whose speeches about art and the desires of life resounded like a call, a recognition. I thought then that our lives should cross and that our sharing would be our strength: a real couple.
But over time, this meeting became perfectly destructive and proved completely illusory. I loved as never, believed in the "fantastic miracles" of life to realize that this man did not share any of my feelings. The disappointment is great, and I blame myself for having realized this dream to see it turn into a nightmare, tell me that this man was actually an image. His speeches, his ideals were only those of great painters and other great writers in whom he never ceased to project, without ever giving acts ... I believed, I loved, I hurt myself a lot and I am still deeply touched by being deceived! Disillusionment when you hold us. Lie, when you make us dream ... How to land, without bitterness? I am told that we must have confidence in ourselves, not believe anything that the other can not bring us. That everything is ultimately in our hearts, so what is sharing, where is love?