Moving On, with whom?

My friends call me the unicorn. I celebrated it, I wore it like a badge. I loved it. Unicorns are magical, beautiful and rare.

But what do you do when your the only unicorn in this side of the forest.

I’ve always been different. I had beliefs about love and relationships when I was in my teens, rigid beliefs. I was not willing to compromise on my spirituality either. Sex was a sacred act. A kiss was only for those worthy of it. I didn’t want to say I love you unless I meant it, and felt it from the depths of my heart of hearts. I was growing up in a world of little children practicing the dark arts of flings and sexual encounters like it was second nature. I felt like such an alien against my peers.

What happend to waiting? What happend to maturity? What happened to… love? True love? As the years go on, I’ve seen my friends fall one by one to the cruel ways of the 21st century life.

Colombo has become a breeding ground for… defeated hearts, heroes who’ve lost the plot, priests who have tried to forget their beliefs and warriors their beauty. Their inner beauty. You’ve got to dig to unearth the precious souls, pry them with drugs and alcohol to find some fumbled string that leads you to who they really are.

I fell in love with someone pure. But he was too young and ill experienced to understand my love. He had the beliefs, he had the heart, the right vibe. But we met too soon, or maybe we just knew that and wanted it anyway. And so it’s over now. It’s better this way I tell myself. But I must press on, on my journey of love and discovery.

I opened the door to my heart, but he came in and he had to leave. After he showed me what I had missed all my life of course. Nothing like having something and then never having it again.

He was beautiful, that one. Feathers in his hair and green hand. I will love him forever. But I must move on.

So I’m testing the waters of a very murky pond. Where every fish knows atleast a few other fish, and the cloudiness in their eyes. Its a yucky pond. A pond of old bitter wounded fish.

But I’m a unicorn.  I can’t help wondering I’m wasting my time.


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