Once upon a time, I was a very lonely young girl from France, who used to spend all my lonely days on deviantart, browsing for ethereal and dreamy images to brighten my life and to imagine and escape, filling my days with memories of other’s.
I had no friends ; I was only a big black cloud who would spread rain on everyone and felt thunder on the inside. I had dreams and for sure, a lot of imagination, but neither hopes nor ambition. Life was balanced between hospital and a house which I didn’t like to call home.
Meanwhile, several thousands of kilometers apart, in Sri Lanka, a young man dreamed to become a designer. He used his talents to design cars and shoes, proposing them to the critics on deviantart.
Oneday, on the June 26th and like every other day, he was browsing images on the website. Randomly, he found this image, posted on his birthday but one year before the day he found it.
Solitary and decided to stay like that, I used to never accept anyone, pleased to be lonely and being a stubborn head.
This day, though, I recognized his e-mail address which was the same username than the one on his deviantArt account. I broke my own lame rules and accepted his request.
At that time, I spoke French and few words of English, which I could hardly put together to create sentences. He spoke only English and happened to also be the most patient man on this planet.
No matter if we had a totally different culture, story, religion, language, continent and never met in real life, it was love at the first talk. We fell in love at the first second we spoke to each others, and only a few days later, we admitted our feelings to each others. He just turned 17, and I was 15, almost 16.
Millions of sms later, endless calls, e-mails, sweet love-mails, sleepless nights, we talked to each others twenty-four hours a day. Connected in all terms. He would even use his drawing talents to do my art homeworks and sent them to me all the way from Sri Lanka.
Until the very last day, and until they saw Sheriff with their very own eyes, everyone was making fun or felt sad for me, because I truly believed that we would meet, and later go together to live in Italy and it seemed impossible to anyone else. Doctors would laugh at me so hard and say I sound like a kid who want to go to New York to become a singer.
One very long year and half later, he came to the closest international design school to my house. It was in Italy, and from here, he took a 24 hours long train and came during Christmas holidays. I just turned seventeen, and it was my parent’s house, he stayed here during three weeks.
When I first came to take him at the train station, I recognized him immediately between the other hundred of people, my eyes literally saw just him. He was the only one here and in my heart. Our love at first talk became love at the first sight. It felt like we knew each other since forever already, like he just went on a three days vacation and came back.
I always used to be introverted and sickly shy, but that is a feeling I would never feel with him. After all, even if we were physically thousand of kilometers apart, we were already together on every other way since one year and half.
After the three most wonderful weeks of my life, where we got to exchange our well deserved first kiss, he had to go back in Italy. Taking my soulmate back to the station and seeing the train going away from me through my tears, bringing my lover to another place than mine and not knowing when he would come back was probably the saddest thing.
He came another time in April 2010. After that, my mum and step-father were very angry with me because of really huge phone-bills to Italy. I knew that if I had to wait one more day without him, my heart would stop beating.
Sheriff and myself made a plan, In July 2010, I invited him secretly and hided him in my bedroom. I would secretly take food after meals and bring him, he would live like a prisoner and stay hidden alone at home when my family and me had to go out.
After seven days, my step-father was gone, and my mother called me and told me “Poor Sheriff, when will you let him go out?”. She was angry but tendered. I was just seventeen but she told me that I could go to Italy with him ; she knew he is the one.
Few minutes after, our train tickets to Italy were already in our hands and our bags were ready, we left to Italy at 5am. It was his school holidays, we had a lot of free time and went on a 3 months roadtrip through Italy, we felt rootless, totally free, living of love. We would earn a few coins while baby-sitting children who don’t speak the same language as us. We would sometimes be homeless, sleep on benches from stations or parks because we missed the latest train, but we could not care less. He was always there, looking after me before he looks after himself, always keeping me warm and protecting me from the mosquitoes who would find my blood tasty.
And we came back to my small town in France, a short time before my 18th birthday. Then I turned 18, we travelled a lot, moved to Paris, visited places, lived millions of things. And in the train to come back from Paris to my little town, we were not two anymore. No, we were not two, we were three! A little one was right there, snuggled up inside my belly in complete harmony.