The Bruises Of Love

I loved this picture. Seriously, it had never been so difficult to find a good figure to feature a post. First, I never even wondered I would ever name a post with such a cheesy and mexican soap opera-ish title. Second, don't even know why I came up with this name, but then I took a look at my right arm and there I saw this purple spot: a bruise caused by this special someone in a not special occasion. Ok, let me go with my story...

Ever since I was this clumsy and scraggy teenager (picture me wearing braces, long arms, tiny head and pitchy voice - EVIL!) I had these bruises I'm talking about. Even though they weren't visible (or maybe just ignorable) I can assure that they used to hurt even more than this one on my arm (which, I would say, was kinda funny - put a clip on it).

Note: If you dare keep on reading this text, I'd like you to know that if you're not in the mood to read things you'd find in your 15 year-old sister's diary, just ignore me and get away from here. Believe me, it either can make you cry or laugh - for sure! Moving on...

My stories are the ones which could be turned into movies (with terrible cast), probably just like yours: fell in love once, tried to chat her (!) up twice and, eventually, got dumped at some point. And you know what? It never really got healed. It's been exactly otherwise: although it had first happened when I was 11, it still lingers on now that I'm 26. God, I mean, for 15 years!!! I'm old! Leave it for another post which I'll probably name "The Bruises Of Ageing"...Riot again...

What I mean by saying all this is that every single complex I had at that young age and every fear I carry from being dumped in my early days still remain right here (I'm pointing at my heart). There's a part of me that says I grew older and shouldn't mind about my former demons but, yet, I can't prevent myself from hearing the other part saying how much of me hasn't changed. Thus, it says that, despite of my age, I still am the insecure and oversensitive young lad of 15 years ago, who's considerably afraid of bruises, sadness, loneliness and other "ness's". I've always been a good adviser for love issues. I've always wanted to be in a relationship so that I could see what it's like to be in the other side instead of putting on my mask of "been there, done that" every time my friends asked me for help. For this, as a very sympathetic friend I am, I often listen to many cheesy (ok, shitty) love stories. Just for the record, I really think they suck big time. Even mine.

That's why I chose this picture. The guy is totally fucked up, bruises all over but still having fun. Isn't it that love is all about?