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Her

I always wanted to live in the United States. The Europe I grew up in seemed low, gray, and bland. I thought nothing good would come to me here. I imagined the United States as a country of freedom, liveliness, and exuberance. The town of Jenssen, where I was born, wasn’t particularly large, but I like it nevertheless. I know it like the back of my own hand. Jenssen lies among lush greenery, surrounded by dense forests and winding rivers. Parks, gardens, and recreational spaces intertwine with the cityscape—a refreshing retreat for the inhabitants and visitors alike. There are no skyscrapers here like there are in Cape, but in some projects, including mine, ten-story buildings loom over massive old trees. The view from the highest floors is incredible, stretching to the very horizon.

I lived in my partially imagined world, trying to see goodness and beauty everywhere. I got lost in movies with happy endings—love stories. Even the impossible became possible there—great loves that found their perfect culminations despite everything. I dreamed of heartwarming stories that I could be a part of someday. My story would be the inspiration for the greatest love story there was. Nobody knew me—that shy girl next door—from that side. After many traumatic experiences, I donned a mask to hide my sensitive core from the world.

When I was a little girl, I used to play with matchboxes and Barbie dolls, creating elaborate new stories reminiscent of Hollywood productions. Barbie was perfect and Ken was too. I wondered if I would grow up to be a pretty girl and find my Hawaiian Ken. We’d have a cozy house and a car, great friends, and we’d travel all around the world. A couple of years later, I found myself in front of the mirror, eyes watering, gazing at my reflection and tearing my hair out, seeing how dull I was. I turned no heads and couldn’t compete with my girlfriends, who were much easier to get along with. I didn’t know back then just how much my life would change one day. Years passed and I kept looking for my perfect blue-eyed, blond-haired Hawaiian surfer. Without any luck. After getting into a few childish, trivial, short-lived, and painful affairs in an attempt to assuage the emptiness I felt inside me, I had no wish to keep trying anymore. I had given up. It made no sense. Stories like the ones I had been dreaming of only ever happened in movies. Then, an unexpected twist of fate came.

A single brush of his hand was enough to turn my entire world upside down and make me realize that it wasn’t the hair or eye color but the energy that finds its corresponding twin particle inside you that makes your brain turn into mush. His voice, his look, his every touch, every word he spoke would hypnotize me, caressing me gently, deep down, and making me reach for the stars and lose myself in that blissful feeling of just being close to him.