*** Kratka priča sa temom "Summer Loves" napisana po narudžbi, za nekog kome je trebala pomoć u tom trenutku. S obzirom da je to bilo 2006, mislim da sad mogu da je objavim.
As I sit in my chair and watch clouds pass by my open window, with light breeze in my silver hair, memories come to my troubled mind. Oh, those days are long gone, and never will they come again, but strong sensations still live in my thoughts, light as leaves at autumn wind that cries blue songs of my sorrow. I'm sitting here alone, all alone, in front of misty veils of my youth hidden behind that damned mirror, watching me back, and laughing at me. Just you laugh! - I curse it, but my trembling hand moves lipstick over my cheek, not lips, and even if I can see that, my mind don't realises it any more. No. I'm still young and attractive female, no sign of schizophrenia at my face, no darkness in my eye. I'm young and beautiful. And I can have every man I want. Except for him. He was never mine, never.Autor: Nikola Bulj
I knew him for a long time then, but didn't noticed him as a man I desire, not at all. He was always out of my and every body's sight, always watching as some kind of silent guardian, always out of the way. As other men desired attention and woman's attraction, his sad eyes always looked somewhere in the distance, like he was never present in the room at all. I never talked with him, never did I wanted to. Until once, he sat next to me at class, not because he wanted to, but because there were no other free chair in classroom. I was startled. I didn't wanted him there. Not him, expecting he will be boring, silent, or worse - that he will try to speak with me about something stupid and completely uninteresting. How I was surprised when he politely asked if he can sit there, and excused himself for having to do that, because he knew I don't want him there. Even now I don't know why I did it, but i started quiet conversation, and discovered a new world. He was interesting, and didn't care for my small female tricks. That was maybe the thing that intrigued me the most - no man could stay cold and senseless before me until than. But even with that, our friendship could be ended there, if I didn't managed to snatch his phone number, and contact him later. So we talked. And talked. For the first time in my life, I caught myself sitting alone in my room at 4 am and laughing, feeling great just for talking with him. And I wanted more. So I started pushing him to meet me in person. It took a month to persuade him, and take him away from his business obligations, but it happened. We walked at night along city boulevards, talking, laughing, with small affections signs form my side, and at moments, I could almost sense that he feels something for me. But he was distant. Every small talk of emotions took him further away from me. He was always talking how he wants just friendship, with no pressing from my side. So I said to him that nothing could happen between us, ever. Not because I don't like him, but because I don't want to ruin beautiful thing that started to grow - out friendship. And he was satisfied with that, for a time.
He was always honest with me. Open and relaxed. But we always did things he wanted, under his conditions. Always did he provoked me at being at love with him. Somehow, he knew it. But I denied it strongly, saying that all my signs of affection was just a test, just my wish to see if he is truly my friend or just a guy that wants my body. Most of men would believed that, when I would laugh in their face while telling that notorious lie. Not him. He said I'm pathetic and he pity's me. Because I'm afraid of living. Because I'm scared. I wanted to know if he ever wished to kiss me, but he denied it. All i could think about was kissing him. He was holding my heart and strangling it with every women at his lap. But I stud still, never telling him honestly I do love him. Even if I knew that would mean he would be mine. Yes, he would, because he said it, and he never lied to me. He said it, I remember even now: I love you, but nothing will ever be between us. Nothing. Except if you confess your love to me, and more important - to yourself. I never did. And he never looked at me as more than a friend. Just as he said he wouldn't.
Summer has passed in a blink of an eye, and life took him away from me, leaving just regrets of an old woman to haunt me in my dark room, with broken mirror. Sometimes, when clouds leave my eyes, I grab white stuffed sheep he bought me long time ago, and hold it pressed at my heart. Yes, sometimes I feel better, even if just for a moment. Sometimes I can even remember his face and words. But even then sorrow runs trough my veins, and I call upon my madness to size me, and stop the cruel reality from killing me. And then, in those moments, I'm still young and beautiful, while my trembling hand puts lipstick over my old face..
