When I was a child I supposed to be a very special child.
I’ll destroy the misconception that all the childs are artlesses. l knew any thing about woman, man. And sex. And I was just 5 years old when I understood every thing.
Today, I still can’t find an explanation. Where I did learn about it? And how ?
Sometimes I hoped that the time wents by faster. Whom asked me what I should have been when I should be grown-up: “the dancer” I answered. But I thought to myself ” I want my first crush. And fling too.
This was strange for my age, I think. Where was my ‘latency period’, Dr. Freud? Where?
Growing on, I could do that. I belived.So I dreamed with wide eyes.. But there was a roule: this had to be a secret. Because the others childrens, I imagined, could not understand…with their dolls and their dirty hands of icecreams and other stuff like that. I couldn’t shared it with nobody. It’s wrong, I repeated to myself.
And something about it was the same that I listened when I was in the church school.
Poor myself! God will’ punish me, and I’ll go to the hell..But did’n go in that way…maybe…hope.
Was summer 90, I was 10. Was one of the hottest summer that I remember ( every year it is the hottest for the meteo man). I met the one who should be my favourit obsession, ever. 43 years old and wild. He was my father’s friends. I began to dream of him every moment of my daytime and every single night. Sometimes I cried in the bathroom, asking to myself why I needed so much time to grow. Like penance: the shame.
Anyway, especially when you ara a child, the secrets are heavy like little stones in the soul, and every step you make they moves inside of us making strange creaking, remember us their presence. always.
About that summer I can clearly remember the scent of sea and oranges. and the passion, so strong that it could had kindle the entire island; the passion that tooks evry single part of my mind and just in a moment, it dragged me up and deeply down.I was so sad, outside, but inside of me I knew to be happy, becouse I belived to be a very special child.
This was enough for me. I had loved. Like I never loved in the rest of my life. The imaginary flings with him is still the best sex of my life…like his eyes the stories of glances that I invented.I have looked for the same intensity forever , but I’ve never found it.
Almost twenty years later I don’t know exactly what is love.I have choosed the classic love. Normal. That child is still smiling of me .She call me frustrated. I just answer her:”the unconsumed love burns the soul”
She stops smiling. But ,unfortunately, after a while she starts again.
