Everything that happens, happened or will only happen, always has several alternatives. Every day we make choices, make decisions, sometimes insignificant, which do not seem at first glance fateful. But even such decisions can affect our life, change it, bring something new into it, and sometimes even deprive it. And each time, living and analyzing some experience, you begin to find the reasons why it happened, to restore a chain of small accidents, decisions, actions that led to this or that. Probably, each of us, people, ever engaged in such samoedstvo. And I am no exception.

If my meeting with one person had not happened, if he had not brought me pain, if I had not lived through this experience, had not suffered what I should have been, then I would never have been so happy again. After all, I would never have met YOU ...

***

Anatoly ... What a stupid name! I never even called him by name - I was embarrassed. She simply said “you” or “cute”, but Anatoly never. Especially Tolya ... Once, however, I allowed myself to write him a message: "I want you, Tolya." As soon as the text was sent, I was attacked by a fit of hysterical laughter. I was ashamed of the fact that my beloved was called the same way as the old neighbor drunk, as a school fizruk-drunkard, as a loader from a store near the house - he, by the way, was also suspiciously drunk. It seemed to me that it was a kind of karma named Anatoly - to be an alcoholic. And my first association with this name is an alcoholic. Therefore, when I met Anatoly, at first I sniffed him with waryness, trying to catch the smell of alcohol, and looked for signs of alcoholism in him. It turned out to be some very special Anatoly - he did not drink at all. Never. And did not even smoke! But, as Vasilyev sings, it would be better to drink ... and smoke.

Our novel was not too long - less than a year, but swift, rich and vivid. For me. He gave me what I needed so badly - the feeling of being needed, indispensable, adoring, intimacy. In a sense, I became the air for Anatoly, and he, accordingly, became it for me. He was the first man in my life to whom I wanted to give something for free, and did it. I gave him all myself - all my time, attention, tenderness, affection. I gave him everything. And the moment came when I told myself - this is love. I love this man. And even let his name is Anatoly ... For me it was a super-revelation: I had never loved myself before. So - fully, recklessly. Always loved me, and I only allowed. And even if I almost loved, I was loved a bit more. And it was precisely this drop that I lacked in order to understand the difference between love and falling in love.

Maybe I could love before, but the fear of pain, disappointment and subsequent loneliness did not allow me to open up, to start giving my man my tenderness, warmth. For some reason, Anatoly was able to convince me that with him I do not need to be afraid of anything - he is good, he is honest, he is faithful, warm ... And I fell into him.

So I lay at the bottom of Anatolia, lay blinded by his inner glow, deprived of the opportunity to look at it from the side - I’m lying in it, and I saw it only from the inside. He was always so close, we were so closely in contact, were inseparable from each other, that for me it remained unknown: what is it really, in itself, without me, without us. I only needed to step aside to look at him, but I chose not to. However, soon I felt cramped inside Anatolia, and what happened happened - we broke up. The separation was painful, long and painful. He left, clinging to my heart by climbing cats, leaving deep grooves, tearing out pieces, advancing with his feet into the same wound, not allowing it to heal. And when he finally left completely, I was gone.

He took everything, he took everything from me.I could not give anything to him anymore, I had no place to take strength, I was so empty after this relationship, gutted, lifeless, as if he had drunk all my energy, depriving me of the desire to do anything. Everything became indifferent, gray, the food lost its taste, the smells disappeared, emotions were dulled. No wonder I never liked the name Anatoly. Mine turned out to be a drinker too - he drank me. No, he did not do anything wrong, there was no betrayal, betrayal, bullying, and just other things, why women usually run away from men there. He just ate me, ate, ate, ate and could not get drunk. Like a vampire, to the last drop. And I ... I just ended. And this feeling of deception ... It seemed to me that he had deceived me in something very important. I did not know what it was, but I felt deceived. Over time, it began to seem to me that he did not need me, but something from me.

I was feeling bad. I wanted to forget everything, and even regretted that it was impossible to become Clementine and erase from the memory of Joel, as in the Eternal Sunshine of the pure mind ... During this period alcohol, tobacco, bars, clubs, nervous breakdown, antidepressants, personal psychologist appeared. I do not know what specifically helped with this, but I let Anatoly go. And even understood - it was no love at all. Obsession, madness ...

However, even though the remnants of Anatoly were carefully swept out of my head, one problem remained - pain. I did not think about him, I no longer wanted to see him, hug, kiss. He left, finally. But he caused me pain, and she was so strong that sometimes I gasped when she suddenly rolled on me. Often the attacks of this pain happened when I was alone, and no one saw me cry, unable to bear it. But sometimes she rolled at the wrong time, I could not resist her, and it happened that people saw my tears. I was ashamed of it, but I could not solve this problem. Such is the aftertaste of love. It only remained to wait, I guess. And what else?

Sometimes it seemed - maybe it is worth kicking a wedge? But I didn't even want to think about anything like that. My wound was so deep, the same thought was constantly beating in me - never again, I don’t want to, I’ll never let anyone else near me anymore. I did not look at anyone, nobody was interested in me. Passed, probably already a year since our separation from Anatoly. A year since I last saw his eyes. Then, for a long time, for several months, I was lured by correspondence, he pressed on pity and sent his photos with a frozen tear in his eye, and even threatened me that if I did not return to him, he would drink until his liver will not fall apart, or he'll let the car down under KamAZ ... but that doesn't count. He was no longer with me ...

So, this year, no new men appeared next to me, and I was still afraid of the very thought of going closer to anyone. Attacks of pain continued, my psychologist was powerless, we did not solve this problem. It seemed to me that I would never again have a relationship with a man, precisely because of this pain - adding a new one, reinforcing an existing one, I simply could not bear.

This pain was with me constantly. I was so accustomed to her, resigned to her permanent presence in my life, that I even began to worry if she had not appeared for some time. One of my favorite books of Sartre, "Nausea." Now I had my own inner book, it was called Pain. And I had to read it ...

This pain pushed me towards you ...

One day, I woke up with the full feeling that I had to write our story. Our story with him ... Maybe then the pain will let me go. I wrote avidly. A few days without a break for sleep, meals, communication ... Finally, the story was written, the last point was put. But ... the pain did not go away.

However, something much more significant happened, which I had not even suspected ... You read this story ...

***

From the very first your word, from the very first second, as I learned that you exist, I waited for you. How many times have I scolded myself for the fact that my soul has come to life, for the hope that was born in it ... But I still did not stop waiting for you. Was I scared? Of course it was. After all, I felt - you're the one, you're the only ...To touch you promised one thing - to love. To love for me now meant one thing - pain. I ran away from thoughts of you, but at the same time, every second I returned to them, trembling with hope that you would take a step. Step to me ...

I know, darling, how hard it was for you to do it. After all, you know what pain is ... The pain that you feel so unbearable that you prefer silence ... just to experience nothing.

The moment I stopped waiting, you knocked on my door. You were wearing a mask, but it took me a second to recognize you under it ... You entered ... and I do not want you to leave. Stay with me forever. I don't want to go anywhere anymore. I have already come...

You know, from my childhood I had dreams. Dreams about the lions in which they spoke to me rolled on their backs through the streets. I was naked and everyone was staring at us, marveling at this strange picture. But in these dreams I was happy, because that was exactly what I needed - to ride naked on my personal lion. It was always painful to wake up - I had to part with what I needed so much ...

Never before have I wrapped my legs around a lion, fearlessly carrying me through life. And only now, having met you, I feel with my fingertips the lion's stiff mane moving in the wind ... My Lion has already woken up, and I see the muscles of his strong back play, which I just need to sit on so that he gets up and rushes forward.

There is no abyss between us, and the one that exists only seems to be it. I know, Leo will easily transfer me through her imaginary illusory abyss, will not miss and land on all four powerful legs. Otherwise it can not be. After all, I am sitting on his back.

Thanks to all that hurt us. Birth always happens through pain, and now I understand: our pain with you is the pain of birth. The birth of that very single and real feeling.

With love, your Pearl.