L’arrivo del mattino ci ha cullati in un dolce risveglio. Nessuna frase di circostanza detta tanto per coprire un freddo silenzio. Non lo stupido imbarazzo di trovare una scusa per scappare da questa situazione capitata per caso. Non un desiderio strisciante di far finta che nulla sia successo. Continua a leggere
Questo sole invernale scalda le mie labbra stirate in un sorriso malizioso che continua a sbocciare inaspettatamente sul mio viso. So che dovrei sentire freddo quassù in pieno dicembre e invece mi godo beata l’aria frizzante. Tutto ciò che mi è esterno è senza importanza, illuminato e riscaldato solo dall’energia che mi da questo improvviso sentimento. Continua a leggere
This is from some time ago, but hey, who never had a crush like this once in his life?
There he is, covered in dirt, looking right at me. He is desperate and stubbornly trying to hide it. He is on the verge of tears, but his face is a hard mask fighting not to fall apart. I can see his clenched jaw and could trace every tense muscle. All his energy put into this effort to keep it together even though he experienced all kinds of horrors. He lost too many: guilt is chewing his insides up.
I feel compelled to comfort him. My body stretches to reach out for him; my arms open to welcome him in a tight hug. I can already hear my voice drop to a soothing whisper: ‘It’s gonna be ok’. And I’m sure he would shrug me off with a badass line and a sarcastic comment.
But the shiny, cold surface of the TV screen separates me from Dean Winchester. What should I do but laugh at such a childish crush?
It makes absolutely no sense the way I fixate on a guy. He gets stuck in my head like footsteps on fresh clay. Words and images of the time spent together popping out unexpectedly and commanding my attention. I burst out smiling and then scold myself for being so silly, for being incapable of controlling myself.
You, little man hiding in my brain and disturbing my concentration, go play somewhere else. Leave me alone. I have other things to do. I need to study. I need my neurones free and alert, not all doughy and heart-shaped! You can come back around bed time to remind me that I’m foolishly happy for nothing at all, and softly talk me to sleep.
He traces the back of my spine and he turns me on the way one might turn on the lights on a Christmas tree: a soft touch ignites fluid energy, and dozens of lights go off in an explosion of electric power. Continua a leggere