Cross ❌ stitch pattern

 

Cross ❌ stitch pattern

 

Cross ❌ stitch pattern

 

Letter to the Artist

Dear Artist!

I hope you'll understand at least one sentence contained here. No, you won't understand a thing, because this is my world, my matrix, and I won't give it to anyone. I'll throw myself into it and remain there, alone and happy. And do you know what I'll miss in it? Well, guess what. Yes, yes, you. Don't write to me that you retire to your eternal rest at night, please don't write, because you know perfectly well that surviving without you would be equivalent to me vegetating in this world. Even though you don't love me, I know perfectly well that you are one of the reasons for my existence. Every morning I wake up with the thought that you're somewhere out there, that you sometimes remember me. It's nice, really. No, contrary to appearances, I'm not in love with you. At least not in love the way people fall in love. Because that's something else. You attract me, I don't know if you realize it. Maybe, maybe not. There's something about you I'd like to steal and never give it to anyone else. Sometimes I look at you... I think you're quite cool, you know? I love you in my own way. The way an aristocracy, or rather an artist, loves.

I'd like you to read this letter one day. No matter what would happen, how you would feel. I'd say out loud, "I'm not interested," even though I'd know perfectly well it was a stupid lie because I want to know how you feel every second. No, that was a lie too. I want to know all your thoughts about me.

You hugged me once, remember? And more than once. No one has ever hugged me like that; I've never felt such a pleasant thrill, you know? And I'll tell you, I wouldn't want it to happen often, because true pleasure is pleasure when it happens once in a while. Pleasure has to be a change. But that's not important in this paragraph. You know... And then, when you hugged me, I felt a relief I'd never felt in my life. Even though I was sitting on the grass, I was sad, I felt bad. And you, without unnecessary words or ceremony, embraced me, just like that. And I guess I can say that I fell in love with you (but remember, in my own way, not like most people). I wanted to stay in that state forever, but I knew it wouldn't be... Well, you know. Pleasure becomes routine.

Even though you don't always understand what I'm saying, what I want to tell you, you still dwell in my cold heart, though you'll never warm it. Somewhere far away, there's someone else, someone who belongs to both you and me. She was cold too, but you, with your warmth, made her someone completely different. And I know it will be like this forever. And you know why? Because you can't lose me over something as stupid as love. Because, you know... You love me one day, hate me the next. And I'm like a diamond; you can't afford to have me (although once you have me, you're afraid you'll lose it any day, so it's better not to risk it), but at the same time, you gaze at my sparkle with fondness. You know you have to settle for the cubic zirconia you've come to love no matter what. You've always strived for it, and now you can't lose it just because you saw a sparkling diamond. A diamond can easily be lost; someone might steal it, but a cubic zirconia, not so much. You love her for being with you. You love her like everyone else. Simply. Sweet and rosy.

I'm ending this letter because sentiments are starting to flutter in my heart, you know? And I can't just melt away like that. Go to your cubic zirconia. Go just to be with her. But remember, someone loves you. They love you with such a false love, a very cold love, so outstanding and individual.

Your Artist, who will always remember that you exist.

Meeting on the Seine

Late one evening, a slender, tall girl with wonderful brown eyes and long, curly, dark hair took a stroll through sleepy Paris. Unsure of where she was going, she wandered through the ancient alleys. She stopped on a bridge. She looked at the surface of the water, which fascinated her with its silken quilt (...) Gazing at the Seine, she pondered her problems. She didn't know how to escape the situation that tormented her. She shed a tear of bitterness. The stream of sadness transformed into a river of despair, which soon became a waterfall of failure and disappointment. No one understood her, she had no friends. She was alone, lonely, and desolate. But suddenly a glimmer of hope lit up in her mind. She danced toward the dark figure who, for a moment, seemed worthy of her attention and interest. The soft song of the Seine hummed in her ears, interrupted every now and then by gusts of the frosty December wind. Even the shadow of the streetlamp seemed to dance in a playful way. She approached, smiled (...)

"Who are you?" she asked timidly.

To this, the young man, taking her slender hand, replied:

"Your Angel."

And so a friendly signal would flash between the girl and the mysterious stranger... (Angel

Like in a Kaleidoscope.

A cold wind blew. Icy cold, even.

How is that possible at this time of year? The sand was scorching hot, and the sun blinding. I felt anxiety, a spinning sensation in my head. In my thoughts, you. Incredible longing, darting eyes, screaming: where is he???. He's not here, not there either, is it fate? Desperate, why?! /Cry? Scream? Stamp my feet? Lie down on the sand and erase the memories? *** In a moment, the August sun reminded us of itself. It's not that bad, I have you in my thoughts, in my heart, deep down... It's definitely some kind of sign, not today, not yet, but that doesn't mean never again! (...) The water was damn cold, not like it was a few weeks ago, the summer rain, the joy, what? Carefree, childlike, every moment returns, because it wasn't you I first discovered here [...] Busy thoughts, much, much better. And that smile? ///Dark clouds, suspicious glances, a moment of weakness, beautiful views, fear, uncertainty, surprise? What's happening? * Go there, faster, for the last time, don't be afraid, there's nothing to be afraid of, put all your fears in your backpack, go as if the world were ending today. Do you see him? He's approaching, it's him. Think that you have before you someone who has been talking to your dream every day for over a month, just like you could, only for a moment, and not at all shyly, as is usually the case, and that's a huge plus, you're making progress! You smiled, and good, you must have gotten something out of this (perhaps not entirely unlucky) day! | .Travel always makes me think, at least no one interrupted me this time. I closed myself in tightly and slowly, reliving every moment spent there. Willy-nilly, the most important question comes to mind: Will I ever see you again? Will our paths cross, even for a moment, for a moment, one tiny, tiny moment?

[Travel always makes me think, at least no one interrupted me, this time. I closed myself off tightly and slowly, reliving every moment spent there. Willingly or unwillingly, the most important question comes to mind: will I ever see you again? will our paths cross even for a moment, for a moment, one small, tiny moment? And again the fog (nothingness) came. //.it passed.

This is probably another letter to the Artist

And again they slipped from my body. And again a salty tear ran down my cheek… And again the same thing, and again with the thought of you. And again I looked into your eyes. Again, frightened, I opened my mouth to say your name. I no longer listen to reason, I no longer desire a static life, I desire nothing except your gaze, your touch… A touch that has long since vanished into the past. You are the only purpose of my life. You are the one who dwells in my mind.

My thoughts go back to that day when you brought your lips to mine. We joined in a passionate kiss. You know well that that day was probably one of the happiest, most wonderful. The next morning I woke up thinking it was just a dream. I blinked a few times and, to my delight, realized that the event had actually happened. I stretched with a smile on my face. Back then, I didn't care. The world didn't exist for me. No, correction. To me, you were my whole world. You were my only companion. I practically skipped around the apartment, the street... You have no idea what was going on in my mind. I was happy. Believe me, I was truly happy. Like never before.

I wish I could forget, I wish I could erase from my mind those days when I felt the touch of your lips, the touch of your hands. I long to wrap myself in emptiness and once and for all banish all those memories that sometimes keep me awake. I have that beautiful evening in my head. With my joy, I crossed all boundaries. Nothing mattered, no one mattered, there was only you. Go, go away... I've had enough of this eternal journey back to that day. I no longer want to feel the taste of your lips on mine, I no longer want to remember that mad dance of tongues. I dream of forgetting the touch of your hands. I don't want to remember that look that told me unequivocally: "I remember Saturday, do you?" I beg you, let me finally breathe.

I wish a smile would finally appear on my face. I wish I could turn back time. Maybe then I wouldn't have felt what I feel for you now? Maybe then I wouldn't have gone to this place, maybe I wouldn't have shaken your hand, maybe I wouldn't have said my name...? Maybe I wouldn't have heard, "It's so nice!" Then I would have lived with peace in my heart, then there wouldn't be so many painful memories. Then my thoughts wouldn't be filled with you.

I cry again. I look down at the ground again. Snowflakes fall on my hair. I inhale from my cigarette. A pleasant melody reaches my ears... A melody emerging from your fingers. You don't let me forget. You're killing me, you know? When I think about never having you by my side, my heartbeat becomes irregular... My blood pressure rises. I feel like punching the wall. I cry... I cry like a tiny child, not thinking about anything.

Oh my God, why am I so weak? Why has this man become my replacement? Why have you made me so dependent on him? Why do I need his gaze, his voice... like a smoker's morning cigarette? Why would I be willing to give my life for him? I fell in love. It wasn't mutual. And I feel bad about it.