A while ago I came across a movie: Wuthering Heights. Many years ago I was given that book by a very special someone, but I never got around to read it (no special reason behind it, just that it started being a well written-therefore-hard read). But I watched the movie. Boy I did. Black and white. And I was rendered speechless.
Behind the fact of having been given that book there stood a reason.
I thought our story was more of a Bitter Moon kind of plot and that’s why I recommended it to him: a extremely strong physical passion that becomes almost the only straightforward and active communication in the relationship, a relationship that moves along but each of the involved seems to have a different speed (or a different goal). Her struggle against his seeming indifference and her downward pathway to unworthiness while she’s getting so lost in him that almost loses herself on the way.
It is not very often that we realize how little we are known to others.
We not always realize why people recommend us to see things or read things.
But our story was Wuthering Heights? Really? How can someone stay so close to a person for such a long time and not know her at all? I’m stunned. And sad. It makes me incredibly sad most of all.
I am sure now that I cast a wrong shadow to some. I reflect something that I am not to those who are nearest. Either that or we all have our demons, and the demons that I was facing on the other person were bigger than I could have ever imagined.
A new colleague at work told me that in the beginning I appeared to be the “girly girl” type. It didn’t take long to see otherwise though. The “body art” that I “wear” (see my post: Living Passion to see it) shows otherwise. My hobbies say a lot about me. The music I listen to (try to playlist the songs of this blog, I have) talks about me.
Sometimes even people that talk to me for a couple of hours are able to figure. Why a person that I stayed so close to for years could not?
Less than a month ago, on my one day trip to London for an awesome job interview, I was told not to “ever forget” that I have a “huge potential”. Of course I do have potential. I’ve been working my ass off all my life. But definitely not for money, and definitely not for power or anything else that sounds remotely like that. I do it because I need to feel proud of what I do, I need to feel that I did the best that I could, not for anyone, not to get any recognition from anyone, but just for myself.
Never in my life I have or I would trade love for power or for any other earthly possession. Never in my life have I been involved (or even wanted to) with anyone that had a penny. Never in my life have I ever cared at all about that to ask, to wonder or to even think about it. I couldn’t care less. I’m a hard worker, yes, I’m somehow independent, so my partner could be doing anything that he wants as long as it makes him happy.
And I’d be happy if working my ass off will ever pay off just by having a job I like and having a family with someone who I madly love and loves me back. Then anything else could absolutely go to hell and burn.
(This post best read -while drinking Bordeaux- while listening to:
Heartbreak on the 101 by Band of Horses)