Questions for...

Soft music enveloped the room. A faint twilight, the scent of candles, warmth... She sat in a deep armchair, tucked her legs under her—this was what she needed. Lately, thousands of thoughts had been swirling through her mind. She wanted to reflect on what had happened in her life. In peace and quiet. She needed it so much now. She lit a cigarette... closed her eyes. She listened for a moment to the calm tones flowing from the depths of the room. She was alone. She had once been so afraid of this, but now that it was a fact, she felt no fear. She closed another chapter of her life. Quickly. Perhaps too quickly? But she did. In recent days, life had gathered such pace that she hadn't even had time to consider the wisdom of her decisions. But she was calm. She didn't know where this calm came from. She was certain it had all been well. She looked at the smoldering tip of the cigarette... "It's about to go out..." she thought. Just as everything in life fades. Pain, terror, uncertainty—everything has an end. She knew this, and it gave her strength. And faith. She had to be strong now and believe that the pain brought by the events of the last few days would soon pass. Pain... she hadn't considered that this insane feeling could turn into pain. Acute, tearing every cell of her body to pieces. After all, she was an adult. She had been through a lot in her thirty years. Why had she allowed herself to be hurt again? A sad smile appeared on her face... She stood. She poured herself a glass of red wine... She sat back in the armchair. She raised the wine to the light; it had a beautiful, deep color. "Like love," she thought, "my love, of which I have so much inside me, and which no one wants." Maybe people don't want love? Are they afraid of it? But why? She couldn't understand it. She asked herself this question every time, and she still hadn't found the answer. For her, this feeling had always been the most important. When she loved, she gave herself completely—perhaps that was a mistake? When she loved, everything seemed simple—problems became irrelevant, she felt the strength within herself to overcome any difficulties she might encounter. How many more times would she wonder about this? How many times would she suppress the pain? She couldn't love any other way. She couldn't dose her feelings. She gave everything, without thinking, without demanding anything.

The candles burned slowly. She drank the last sip of wine. How long would she have to wait for a bit of happiness again? When would she sit in that armchair again, full of pain, asking herself the same questions? Life is truly strange. People are strange. Is pain always the consequence of love? Or was it just the rule in her life?