Nutrition and diet 

Life is beautiful in all its manifestations. Love in all its forms: a photo project from National Geographic

People, modern and not modern, always think. Different thoughts come over their heads. There are plenty of problems nowadays on which we should all reflect. As one friend of mine says, "brainwash". But I am sure that each of us first of all thinks about something pleasant. Our subconscious is trying to push aside the negative, as if to postpone black thoughts, because it is pleasant thoughts that endow our life with meaning, new bright dreams, global goals, and a wonderful mood. And probably most of the time most people think before going to bed, well, for example, I usually do that. It was in the evening that I, as it were, mentally summarize the day I lived and my brain sorts thousands of thoughts, pleasant and not so, comparing facts, analyzing the past hours of life.

Sometimes you are already in a warm, comfortable bed, and in your head there are whirlwinds of thoughts, feelings and various events, memories. About family, about children, about a loved one.
You lie and dream about how wonderful it would be to ride a car with him, with your soul mate, on an empty road at sunset, hugging him tightly.

And I, mentally addressing him, whisper in the night: Darling, I now have such an insane desire to break with you, drop everything and leave, far, far away. It is advisable to go by car to see how the landscapes change ... I want to listen to beautiful music with headphones, smile at you, seeing how you dashingly drive a car, and am proud of you and admire you in my heart. Periodically stop in cozy cafes on the way, drink hot coffee with you and bury yourself in your strong and beloved shoulder. I want to drive all night long, because the road is especially beautiful at night. To drive when there are few cars, when it’s already getting cold and cold, invigorating air creeps into the car. To touch your hands unexpectedly, as if by chance, and notice how a smile flashed on your lips. Because I understand that you like it as much as I do. And so to go all night, and then stop in the morning and meet the dawn. Meet him, with you in an embrace, in the back seat of the car. To be happy from the mere thought that you are here, next to me, my beloved husband, my joy, and this happiness will last forever.

I want to leave with you dear.

It's so sad then from these thoughts it becomes.

From time to time, thoughts of those animals, representatives of our fauna, which have flooded my home and take up a lot of my time, demanding proper attention and care, also come over me. You also have to worry about them, because I am responsible for them before the Lord.
A whole cat pride, different colors and characters, five dogs, each with its own history. I can talk about them for hours, because they have practically merged with my life and walk side by side in this world.
They go through with me all the vicissitudes of life, hunger, cold, illness, joy, tears. They bring to life when longing wildly squeezes the heart from loneliness. Always near. They always warm the soul.

Duma is visited by different, about anything.
And after everything thought out, experienced, tried and tested, I finally fall asleep.
Falling asleep with a pleasant thought is pleasant. You yourself will not notice how everything will be fine with you, because pleasant thoughts are a pleasant life.
At some point, there comes such a period in your life, such a time when you calmly move away from the drama, from people who cause you inconvenience by creating unacceptable situations for you for harmonious and prudent communication.
Rejecting the unnecessary, removing the drama in the relationship, you begin to surround yourself with people with whom your heart rejoices, with whom it is easy for you. With people who understand why they live, why for them the word of God is the Truth.
You automatically forget the bad and focus only on the good. Love the people who treat you right for the Lord and pray for them, for all those around you.
After all, life is so short, and one should live it only happily, following the commandments of our Lord, walking only along the true and correct path.
Falls are part of our life, to rise again and again is worth living. To be alive means to worship our Creator, it is our gift from God, and to be happy is only your choice.
Children, our children are also a gift, a test, difficulties, all in one hypostasis.
After all, children are the most beautiful miracle on earth. If you look at them, at their clear and pure look, not clouded by vices and vague deeds, you see with what kindness they stretch out their hands to everyone and think about each of us that this or that one is good and such kind people. no matter your face is beautiful or bad, they are ready to kiss and hug everyone with joy, it does not matter to them what your social status is. They love everyone: old and young, rich and poor ...
That is why we need to learn from these little people to be happy.
Because the best and correct way out of the situation is to forget all the bad things, to keep in memory only good moments, to be grateful to the Almighty, telling Him mentally always THANKS for everything that happens in our world.
And proudly move on. With the understanding that you are on the right path, on the path indicated to your slave by the Creator Himself, the Lord of both worlds. Because everything that happens to us is good for us.
Love life in all its manifestations.

Life is beautiful in all its forms.

Part 1. Rise and fall.

Chapter 1. Strange bum.

Life is beautiful in all its manifestations, life is beautiful in all its manifestations and ..., life is beautiful ..., throbbing in my brain, an incomplete thought in a few words. This happens when words, or rather, a few words of some unpretentious song, can suddenly come to mind and become attached for the whole day. More often, you just hear the melody and start whistling it. Sometimes the words of that song break out of their own accord, and you sing; more often
falsetto; and you eat anyway. It does not oblige to anything, but it does not interfere, and even the matter is arguing more merrily ... And here the definition of not something insignificant, but the significance of life was attached .... It sank like a spider, though tenderly so, with soft, like velvet legs and melts, melts the brains. - Beautiful in all its manifestations, or all the same in its manifestations. From this obsessive and annoying, like a rat thought, he woke up. Without opening his eyes, he tried to stretch out on his bed and, turning on his right side, buried his whole body in something soft.
-Wake up? - whispered softly this soft. He opened, no, rather with difficulty opened the slits of his eyes, feeling the pain. The face of a girl, half-sitting, reclining on the edge of a narrow and uncomfortable couch, bent over him. The dim light of the smoking wick of a kerosene lamp under the ceiling, which went into the darkness of the heating main, illuminated a small section of the room. Only the right side of her face, bare shoulder and the contours of small breasts under the combination were clearly visible. So, despite the chill in the tunnel, she also undressed yesterday. He himself was shirtless, but the warmth of the pipes that warmed the bed from below did not create the necessary thermal comfort. It was just cold and he, standing up, pulled the sheepskin coat higher, covering her and himself with it. She lay down beside him with a joyful exclamation, helping him to push the edges of the casing under his side. Then she clung to him and confidently laid her head on his broad chest. With a cool hand, she gently stroked his face and neck. Her hand went limp on her shoulder and the girl fell asleep.
-Life is beautiful in all its manifestations and vicissitudes of fate: - he thought happily, and then - a crazy thought that an evening incident could become fateful in their lives?
He long ago got used to the idea that he attracts the attention of others only by his miserable appearance? For ordinary people, homeless people, beggars and people who have sunk to such a state have always been and will be outcasts of society? Not a single civilized state has more or less acceptable programs for returning even young and healthy people from such an environment to society. Shelters, rehabilitation and adaptation centers for persons without a fixed abode, the same rehabilitation centers for persons released from prison. Well, yes - there are homes for the elderly, orphanages, boarding schools. Naturally and more, there is something where you can just spend the night and eat for free.
In big cities, volunteers deliver soup and feed it to hungry and sick people right on the street. Although the state allocates millions of funds, homeless people and street children have flooded the country. If earlier a person was imprisoned for parasitism, and there he brought at least some benefit to the State, now ... However, as he later understood, the prison cannot solve either this or any other task assigned to it. The beggars and the underprivileged scavenge in dumpsters. They spend the night, no - for years they live in heating mains and in garbage dumps. Here they manage to give birth to children, but they also die in tens of thousands both in summer and in winter, especially in winter. Of course, they are buried at the expense of the state. How many unmarked graves of such people are scattered on the ground. Yes, what are homeless people? - a normal person is forced to climb through the garbage to feed his family and himself. For the sixth year already, these thoughts and others like them haunted a man who fell asleep on a makeshift bed next to a young and beautiful girl.
This makeshift bed was a platform of two rungs and four unplaned planks nailed to them. The mattress on the boards from the one-and-a-half bed, with several springs sticking out of the holes, was, however, covered with a fresh sheet. The bed was located on two heating pipes of the central heating main of the city. Leaned on bricks stacked a meter high. Several pillows and wadded blankets, also in clean pillowcases and duvet covers, lay on two bedside tables set against the pipes. At the foot of the bed hung a black suit on a hanger, several shirts also on a hanger, hung by hooks in the ceiling of the heating main; and everything is covered with cellophane. A gray canopy to the floor, made of carpet and scraps of multi-colored thick fabric, rather heavy curtains, separated part of the tunnel right at the head of the bed. Three, maybe a little more than a meter from this canopy, the second of the felt mat and two inexpensive carpets was built. The floor was covered with the same carpet, on top of it were small rugs. Near the nightstands hung a washstand over a bucket, and a flask of water stood on the pipes.
The girl's upper and lower clothes lay on two stools, and her winter boots broke on the floor near the stools. The owner's trousers, shirt and sweater, which he had thrown over some semblance of a bookshelf, now hung over the bed, ready to fall on the people sleeping on the pipes. A torn sheepskin coat, thrown over the blanket, also gradually rolled off them along with the blanket, revealing their naked bodies. On a high and narrow table stood a kerosene stove, several glasses in cup holders, a saucepan with leftover food, several apples, and an open box of chocolates lying on a laptop. An almost empty bottle of expensive vodka and a started, no less expensive Cahorscoor did not contrast in any way with the whole atmosphere of the underground, and even more so with trampled tarpaulin boots lying near the ladder put to the bed. And certainly not with the fat rat swarming around them.
What and how brought these people here? - you will ask, tired of contemplating this unsightly picture. Well, the story will be long ...
Suddenly, or at last, things and a blanket with a sheepskin coat on the floor that fell almost simultaneously from the shelf woke the man up. He carefully freed himself from the girl's embrace, sat down and, fiddling with the wick of the lamp, added fire. The lamp smoked mercilessly, but the twilight receded, freeing a small circle for the light. Then the man reached for a stack of blankets at the foot of the bed and gently straightened it out, glancing sideways at the girl. She looked no more than 20-24 years old. He was not much shorter than him, and he was above average. Even as part of the basketball team, he played for the honor of the border school. They were brought into the team, most likely because of his growth. He didn't like playing sports. All-around was his hobbyhorse. How long ago it was ... Slowly covering the girl with a blanket, he admired her half-naked body. Even the fool took off her panties, thought with tenderness and without condemnation, peering into the dark bush of his bosom, but resolutely pulling back the raised combination.
-Natashka, Natasha: - with these words from the song he woke her up, or maybe when he covered her with a blanket. She opened her eyes wide, pulled the blanket up to her throat, as if protecting herself from him ...
“Why are you Natalya Sergeevna?” The man said in bewilderment, even trying to move away.
She looked at him with a perplexed, haunted and suddenly extinguished gaze from the bottom up, and tears rolled down from her yesterday's mischievous eyes.
He reached out to her to dry those eyes with a kiss, but suddenly stopped, realizing that not even a hand could touch her, at least not now. -My dear, my happiness: - whispered, no, his soul sobbed in unison with her silent cry, but he was silent. - Lie down Natasha, calm down, I'll boil tea now: - he said with restraint and, getting up, began to slide to the foot of the bed.
-No, don't, don't go, don't go, forgive me Valery Dmitrievich, Valera, Valerochka, my savior: - and she, grabbing his hand, pulled sharply towards her with such force that he fell on her, not having time to spring your fall with your free hand.
His body pressed into her like a meteorite striking the ground, but not causing her any tangible harm. With his face he felt both the hardness and softness of a woman's body, his lips flattened against her breasts and caught the nipple. Hands finally lifted him over her. He ran his right hand over her body from her shoulders to her thighs, gently stroking and squeezing the lumps of breasts, elastic abdominal muscles, outer and inner thighs. He bent over her, kissing her gently on the lips. The girl was seized by a slight tremor, she did not resist and obediently, spreading her legs, pulled him to her shoulders. Having crushed the girl under him, he carefully entered her. She screamed.
- Maybe not, dear? : - Valery whispered, realizing the responsibility of the moment and also realizing that she would not stop him, and he himself, as tonight, will not restrain himself. And, to be honest, it won't be able to. A male woke up in him, having achieved the location of the female, or simply subjugating her to himself. Natalya opened her eyes, looking inquiringly at him. Her hands, leaving his shoulders, hastily crawled to the buttocks and pulled them demandingly. The movements of his strong body did damage to her, such a puny and small body compared to him. And she
arched in a groan, bit her forearm, he stopped for a moment, giving her a chance to rest and entered her with renewed passion. At first she moaned only from pain, but the more and more tenderly he kissed her on the lips, chest, neck, earlobes and again on the lips, the more often and intermittently the girl's breathing became, the more passionate and longer the moans became, but already the moans of pleasure and voluptuousness ...
-I want to finish, I want to finish, I finish, I, I ... Her body tensed, she arched like a bowstring before the arrow was launched, but he already fired, however, pitying her, not protecting her, and pulling a destructive weapon from her bosom, but pressing against the undergrowth in the lower abdomen, he splashed the contents of a month's abstinence on Natasha's stomach. For several minutes she could not come to her senses and he, carefully playing with the lips and clitoris of a wet and still excited vagina, brought her to a second, more prolonged orgasm.
- Oh, what a woman, what a woman. I would like this: - the words of the song flashed through my head. Yes, what kind of day is this - a song day? - thought Valery calmly.
-You lie down for now, and I'll boil the tea: - he said and carefully, waddling over the girl, jumped down. The rat reluctantly ran over the edge of the makeshift screen and immediately looked out of there, twirling its whiskers with a bristle. An ordinary person would probably not see anything in this semi-darkness of the fenced off territory of the tunnel. Valery has long been accustomed to such lighting of his home and saw perfectly. The girl turned in his direction and watched attentively as he, picking up his clothes from the floor and shaking them slightly, quickly dressed. Then he cut off the hair of his beard and mustache with scissors. Lathering almost the entire face to lather, and bending over in front of the mirror, he dexterously shaved. I rinsed myself up to my waist with water. He poured the cologne into his palms and slapped his cheeks. The pleasant smell of a good cologne instantly spread throughout the room. Under the admiring glances of the girl, Valery took water from a flask, lit a kerosene stove and, putting the kettle on the fire, began to cut the sausage and bread. Going to the box, he took the girl in his arms and, sitting on a stool with her things, offered to wash.
-And I'm still going upstairs, not for long: -Kissing and hugging her, -the water in the basin is still hot ...
Pushing the hatch aside, he quickly climbed up and ran to the gray building in the distance, calling someone on his cell phone as he walked. Near the pump room, he quickly looked around, picking up a kind of crowbar, or wiped the armature with the edge of his jacket. Then he wrapped it with a handkerchief, intercepting the already wrapped place with the other hand, bent over the corpses of two middle-aged people. Squeezing their palms in turn on the armature, he left it in the hands of a short, stout fellow. Looking into the room and making sure of something, he grunted with satisfaction. He carefully rubbed the bolt of the door with the same handkerchief. He took the ringing phone out of his pocket and listened attentively. Then he gave several orders:
-Do not let the doctor out until my arrival.
-Guy where? Still there? Strange, they were not here ...
- Don't approach the corpses here, just cover your tracks well.
- Do not call me anymore, documents and everything that you said to speed up ...
By replacing the SIM card in a cell phone, Valery quickly
went back, sprinkling the trail with makhorka. After 70 meters, I ran again, no longer looking back.
-Well, how are you here, didn't you get bored? - he brought the already dressed girl out of his thoughtful state.
- Did you go there?: - she asked, looking at him for a long time. Withstanding this look, he evasively offered a snack with a smile. Having thoroughly washed his hands with soap, feeling her gaze on his back, he painfully figured out how to behave further. From here it was necessary to leave urgently, perhaps forever.
She herself offered him this, and they quickly, having eaten a sandwich and half-finished drinking the cooled tea, began to hastily collect their things.
- You go to the exit: - said Valery, handing her a lantern: - I will now.
Taking clean linen, a mink hat, a sheepskin coat and two small parcels from the nightstands, he folded everything on the bed. Changed quickly. I stuffed the packages into my briefcase and put my laptop on top. He pulled out new boots with fur from the nightstand and swore at the inconvenience without sitting down to change his shoes. Having poured kerosene on the blankets and pillows, he bent down again and called the rat with a squeak. She approached trustingly. - We are moving, my dear: - for some reason Valery said sadly, placing the rat in his briefcase. Then he set fire to a short candle, which he stuck between two pillows and went to the hatch.
He quickly got out and looked around, looking for the girl. Footprints in the snow pointed towards a small embankment near a dozen trees.
-Scared? No, traces of a person walking at a leisurely pace, as if on a walk: he thought, following her trail. Almost reaching the hill, slightly sprinkled with snow, he saw her rise, straightening the hem of her coat.
Smiling embarrassedly, she said: - I almost wet myself ...
Taking her by the hand and quickly leading her away in another direction, he asked: - Can you not ask me about anything, let alone talk about what happened yesterday for at least a couple of days? The girl even stopped in surprise. He pulled her further, carefully so as not to frighten her. A deserted highway appeared with a lonely car, and Valery quickly walked towards it, holding the girl's hand tightly. The car was not jammed. - Apparently the owner went out of small need: - the girl thought. Opening the rear door of the car, he wanted to make Natasha sit on the seat, but she shook her head in the negative and herself, opening the front door, decisively climbed into the salon. He quickly got behind the wheel and pulled away abruptly. We drove in silence, 20 minutes later the first city buildings appeared. It was getting light. Lights came on in the windows of the houses. People were already standing at the stops waiting for the first buses. Traffic lights flashed orange warning lights at intersections. But they always got the green light, and Valera could not really look into the girl's face, not that it was normal to talk. Finally he just took a right and stopped the car. He turned to the girl and asked: - What are we going to do next? What do you think about all this?
“I don’t know, I don’t want to think, but you didn’t kill them, did you?” She said quickly, looking at him with the same searching look as at night.
- Not sure.
-But they weren't there? Did you go there? Wasn't it?
- It was not: - he lied, playing along with her.
-Tell me, who are the three you came with? Yours: - he did not find the correct definition: - friends?
She, twisting her face in a disgusting grimace, quietly said: - Guys from the third year of the university. Tanya and I were driven home from the dances. When they offered me a drink and a ride, she persuaded me to go with them. She said that she liked Andrei and did not want to miss such an opportunity. She asked to play along with her. The guys are quiet, they say. She fell silent, apparently the horror of everything that had happened began to reach her.
- When they began to pester her too frankly, two at once, I began to persuade them, trying to convince them that it would be better in the room and on the bed. We just drove up to this hut, and Nikolai slowed down, dropping that he had already been here. They dragged us out of the car and dragged us into the booth. I broke free and ran. And then she fell and hit something. I heard the guys and Tanya screaming, then I heard the sound of a car driving away. The noise stopped. I was very cold and went back. How stupid, how stupid ... and scary. She fell silent. Valery started and drove off. He made a decision, realizing the recklessness of his act. Just in case, he wiped everything he and Natasha's hands touched with a flannel rag, put on gloves and closed the door with a key, dropping it on the floor and pushing it under the car body with his foot. At the nearest parking lot, he started an old Moskvich-412 and, having driven out of the parking gate, taxied to Natasha, who was waiting for him at the next turn of the road. Having opened the door gallantly, though without leaving the car, Valera held out his hand to the girl. She closed the door herself from the fourth times. His short instructions on who and what she should be afraid of, how to behave in the coming hours and even days did not scare her. She intuitively understood that Valera was not insuring herself, but was afraid for her. She was flattered by this. When he dropped her off near the dormitory of the institute, she felt like Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya, ready for a feat, but not understanding why.

As soon as Valery and Natasha drove away from their last habitat outside the city, two people got up from the ground and quickly scattered in two directions. One lifted the trunk of a small tree from the ground and ran to the hatch, from which a line of black and acrid smoke emerged.
The snow melted over the hatch. After 10 minutes, the hatch cooled down and arrived
began to level and cover the tracks leading from the hatch to the road, while sprinkling something on the snow. Throwing the trunk in the opposite direction from the road and admiring the fruits of his labor, he rushed along the road to the booth. When the building of the pumping station turned out to be perpendicular to the road, he broke several branches, and then, covering the tracks with an improvised broom and scattering the shag, entered the booth.
Catching their breath, they began to speak in an undertone: “Those two blind men, judging by the newspaper reports, are fugitive, and they are broadcasting signs on the radio for the second day. I would like to inform: - the first said dreamily: - The reward is promised, after all.
-Take it easy. They won't let them, they'll also hang everyone on us for the murder.
-It is necessary to leave, Mole. They put on rubber boots, put their shoes in a large bag and walked down the sewer tunnel ankle-deep in water. The smell was disgusting. But they walked, as if along an alley in the woods, talking and habitually inhaling the stale air, - Stop communication with everyone. Don't let it slip, look neither about the girl you found, nor about ... these freaks ... -understood? - said the second unexpectedly.
Understood, Mole understood. Here's another burden on our necks ...
-And tell me where and from whom did you find out about the whereabouts of the fugitives?
asked the first.
-Why did the bum need it? It’s not our mind’s business ...

Current page: 1 (total of the book has 4 pages)

Stucky ==========

Steve Rogers has always done the right thing. So thought the country, so thought his friends, so, once, thought he himself. So he believed before everything around him began to crumble. So he believed before the last drops of his confidence in his actions dried up. And they dried up yesterday. Yesterday, when once again Steve's world began to collapse at a terrible rate. Once again, Steve couldn't handle it again.

Peter was running around the apartment with a backpack in his hands, collecting his things. Peter screamed that he hated Steve Rogers and, oh god, he hated Bucky Barnes. He shouted that there is nothing worse than staying here. There is nothing worse than trying to please Rogers. He shouted this, choking on tears, throwing another stretched T-shirt into his backpack. And Steve blinked every time Peter slammed the door too hard.

Because of what it all started yesterday, Steve no longer remembers. His head seems to him of cast iron, and he hardly tears it off the pillow. Sometimes Steve Rogers is scared to open his eyes, but fortunately no one knows about it. For a couple of months now, he constantly gets up alone. And not because no one is around. It's just that the one who is, completely suddenly lost all interest in him. Sometimes it seems to Steve that the whole world has decided to turn against him. Against fucking Captain America.

He walks out into the kitchen almost by touch. He opened his eyes, of course, but a picture from the past still flashes in front of them, which he dreamed at the wrong time tonight. Steve pushes a button on the coffee maker and sits down at the table, trying to revive himself. Peter didn't show up yesterday, and Steve wouldn't be sure Barnes was at least, but his dirty mug was already in the sink as usual. Steve sighed. He had never felt so lonely before. Not when he woke up in a fucking new world where there was no one else he knew. Not when he watched Bucky Barnes rushing down the cliff. He had never felt so lonely and never felt so lousy.

The picture from the past was surprisingly clear. A serene face in Steve's lap, fingers in dark blond hair. Blue eyes staring with a grin. Bucky looked so homely that even now, the memories made his heart squeeze, and it became much more difficult to breathe. Bucky looked different from what he does now. Now he looks aloofly cold. And that seems to be Steve's fault. He blames himself for everything, maybe it's a hero complex. I always want to be good, but this is not always possible - especially in family life. But Steve tries time after time, screwing up even more each time.

This time he didn't know where to start. From Peter, whose whereabouts he knows as well as his schedule, or Bucky, whom he knows almost nothing about. It seems to him that this is his miscalculation. It seems to him that he just did not notice when his Bucky became the wrong one. And god, he's still afraid to admit to himself that Bucky has been gone for a long time. From the very moment he fell into the abyss. Steve is even more afraid of this than opening his eyes. Afraid of realizing his own stupidity and his own miscalculation. Afraid to admit to himself that it is his fault in everything, that James is better off anywhere than next to him. Afraid that with his eternal attempts to get Bucky back to himself, he will cling to a piece of the past - he will destroy his present. Steve realizes that today he definitely cannot cope with this, so he gets dressed and heads straight with Stark.

The first thing Steve sees is a backpack. He's lying open beside the couch, and Steve winces. The second thing he sees is Peter sleeping on the couch. He wants to come, he almost comes, but a hand catches his wrist.

- Let him sleep, let's talk in the kitchen, - Stark drags Steve with him, and Rogers doesn't resist much.

- When he came? - To be honest, Steve doesn't want to talk at all. In his head, and so complete mess, and Tony Stark is famous for the fact that he knows how to bring even more.

“He came at night… listen,” Tony puts two cups of coffee on the table and gestures for Steve to sit down. He sits down, if only because he just needed a second cup of coffee. Because his head is still spinning. “I understand you, Steve, but if you pick him up now, it’ll only get worse,” Rogers sighs.

“Listen, Tony, I don’t want to offend you, but you will be the last person I ask how I can raise my son,” he looks at Stark, but he, it seems, is not at all angry with these words.

“I see,” he nods, sipping from his glass of coffee. “You look lousy, Rogers, is your little wife wearing you out like that?” Tony grins, but somehow bitterly.

- I'm going to wake up Peter, - Steve realizes that he will not be able to stand more than five minutes of communication with Stark, so he empties the mug and gets up from the table.

“He’ll be back anyway.” If not today, then tomorrow. Lock him in the closet, Rogers, so that the boy has no personal life at all. ”Stark's voice sounds somehow broken and at the same time cocky. But in Stark there has long been no insolence, only banal fatigue and a desire to send the whole world to hell. Especially Steve Rogers.

- He may have a personal life, but only with classmates, and not with you, - Rogers returns to the hall, where his son is still snoring sweetly on the sofa.

- If you listen to you, then no one will succeed with me at all, - he does not shout, does not get angry, he says it as if he were voicing some fact. But Steve gets uncomfortable. The fact that his son is in love with a man with whom he himself tried to build something is completely frightening. The fact that Tony is always trying to hook him is even more intimidating. “You know, your paranoia, Rogers, is sometimes over the top.” Peter begins to frown.

- Dad? - he opens his eyes, trying to figure out where he is, but consciousness does not come immediately after sleep.

- Get up, let's go home, - Steve steps aside. He doesn't want to look at Peter, and he certainly doesn't want to look at Stark.

“I lied to you so you could go to bed.” Tony shakes his head. Peter looks like he was slapped in the face. - Look, little one, your dad is right, - Stark reaches for Peter's hair, burying his fingers in them, but he immediately flies to the side.

- Dad!? Dad is right !? What are you right, dad !? Steve doesn't have time to understand when Peter is around. He screams, stomps his feet, but does not look intimidating at all. - Why can't you just leave me alone, tell me !? Steve sighs. He wants to say a lot to Peter, but the words get stuck in his throat.

“Peter, I'm an old man, can't you see that? - but Tony speaks for him.

- What the hell is the difference !? And you are not an old man at all! Rogers wants to cover his ears. "Or ... or is it because you still love him?" Peter looks like he just threw a tub of cold water over him. “God… I didn't even think about it.” He grabs his backpack and falls onto the sofa.

“Damn, Peter, can you listen to someone at least sometimes ?! - Steve still breaks down. - You're just unbearable! Stop thinking only about yourself! There are people around you too, Peter, for example, me! Although, yes, you are already quite an adult and you do not care about your father! You know, that's enough for me, why only I am always responsible for you !? - Rogers is freaking out. It seems that this is happening for the first time, because even Tony is left with his mouth open. Steve has no energy left. It seems that these were the last drops.

He goes out into the street without even knowing where he is going to go. He just walks, trying to close his eyes so tightly that tears do not fall from them. But apparently this is not how it works. Steve Rogers is America's fucking pride. Steve Rogers is who millions of kids want to be like. He is ideal, he seems unapproachable. Fucking rock. But today all his invincibility has cracked. Steve Rogers is tired of being stone today. Today he has the right to cry.

Commentary on Stucky

For correcting mistakes everyone happiness and goodness: 3 I do not always notice about Chepyatki and I can make banal mistakes) Terribly inattentive, but with ideas in my head) In general, pleasant reading, I will be glad if you don’t close the fanfic after this chapter) It’s more interesting! Hope…

Starker ==========

Tony stays on the couch even when the door slams behind Steve. He was already used to watching him leave. How many times has he seen it before? The back of his head and the slamming door. It almost became a habit.

“Damn.” Peter collapses to the floor, but Tony doesn't even move to do anything. He is devastated. Today was not a very good morning, and the Rogers family, it seems, decided to finish him off.

For a month now, Stark has been suffering with one single problem - Rogers' son. With this fair-haired kid that he damn reminds him of Steve himself. Painfully correct, honest, sincere. Too sincere. And too open too. Everything about this boy is too much, especially being in love. Stark sometimes thinks, is it possible to be too in love at all? If so, he knows exactly how it is. And he knows Peter will outgrow it. He is not Stark, he is only sixteen and his love is far from the pride of America, in which finding the minuses is as real as finding a needle in a haystack the size of America itself. Stark is sure he was never so wrong when he first let Peter in.

“Peter, get up.” He doesn't ask him so much because he wants to regret. It's just that his father's instinct in his head tells him that the floor is cold, and Peter is in his underwear.

“Look, Peter, there could never have been anything between us anyway,” these words hit them harder than a slap in the face.

- But why!? - Peter jumps up and literally kicks Stark at his feet, clinging to his knees with long fingers. Now Peter reminds him of himself. Himself, which, like an abandoned toy, was lying at Steve's feet in the same way. Steve, from whose language he has heard only one word for the letter "B" all his life, from which he is already sick. James Buchanan Bucky Barnes is too many Bs per person. Tony, of course, does not regret that there is not at least one in his name, because, damn it, because of this, Steve will definitely not change his mind.

“Your father will twist my head off,” a faint grin. Steve, of course, is unlikely to do this, but this Mr. B may well, and Tony does not want to check it out.

- He won't do anything to you! Peter leans forward and Tony doesn't have time to understand when his face gets too close, and thin pink lips brush his dry. He feels like a complete insignificance.

- Damn, small! - Tony jumps up, throwing off his hands and briskly disappears into the kitchen. He definitely needs a drink. At the same time, drink a lot. As much as you like and with a little more. But first, he needs to get rid of Peter. - Friday, you do something already! - he freaks out, hitting the refrigerator, which for some reason does not want to open.

“Sorry, Mr. Stark, but this refrigerator was forbidden to prevent Peter from getting into it. You yourself ordered me to turn on this mode when he is away. ”Tony sighs.

- Sorry, Friday, - usually he does not see the point of apologizing to her, because she is just a program created by himself. But he apologizes because she is his only interlocutor.

“The refrigerator is open,” she seems to understand him, and sometimes Tony thinks he has overdone it. She turned out to be too human.

“Thanks.” He takes a bottle of whiskey out of the fridge, and when he returns to the living room, Peter is no longer there.

“Peter has left your territory,” Friday said, and Tony seemed to breathe easier.

Tony didn't know how he felt at all. He was always confident in his feelings for Steve, but for his son they are completely ambiguous. Sometimes Tony thinks: what the fuck? Why the hell are these two taking up so much space in his life? And why the hell did he start to let the boy come to him, if before this brown-eyed miracle he didn’t let even his closest friend come close to him? Peter really became the closest to him. I ran to him after school, talking about another failure, or vice versa, to boast. Together they dug in the pieces of iron. And Steve was definitely not against their communication, he smiled and made fun of Tony, calling him "third daddy." Tony loved it. I liked being somehow involved in Steve's life. I liked to think, imagine, dream that it was their son with him. But everything turned upside down when Peter first said those words.

"I love you Mr. Stark"

From them, for some reason, it became unbearably painful. Tony escaped, leaving the child alone in the lab with a bunch of deadly items. He still scolds himself for this oversight. Tony was used to treating him like a child and did not notice how the boy grew up. Didn't notice how I let myself fall in love. I did not notice how I fell in love with him myself. It was wrong and Tony almost jerked at it. To love the child! To love the son of a man who once meant more to you than your own life. Than the life of this whole planet. And Tony again hid behind his "paternal instinct", laughing at himself, at the stupidity of this excuse.

- Damn, Friday, where did he go? Tony is already drinking two glasses when he panics.

- Whose whereabouts should I trace? - and Tony knows the answer for sure. He doesn't need Friday to know where Rogers is. Steve has only two favorite places that he prefers to visit when his whole world is crumbling. Tony sometimes thinks he knows Steve even better than he knows himself. Steve is most likely at Peggy's, or rather at her grave. And, perhaps, in a cafe on the outskirts of the city, where he often drinks with Romanov. For some reason, these two are drawn to solitude, to simplicity. Or maybe he ran to Barnes.

- Track Peter, - Friday is silent for exactly nine minutes, Tony counts. She names the roof of some skyscraper and Tony jumps up.

- Is he in a suit? - Tony prays to all the gods for Peter to be in a suit. In the same suit that Tony designed with his own hand. Because then he has no chance of dying.

- Yes, - Stark sighs with relief, but nevertheless calls his own and after a couple of minutes is in the air, heading for that same high-rise building.

Stucky ==========

James ran the name more and more in his head. His name, which is what Steve called him so often. It stuck to his lips, as if it was glued to tape. Maybe even super-glue, but James basically doesn't care. Bucky is the one Steve held dear. The one that James has long ceased to be. It made me sick. She and Steve have been together for a hundred years now, and this is no joke. He and Steve have known each other since childhood, but James Barnes no longer remembers his childhood. James remembers Hydra, torture and that Steve Rogers is his main target. These memories are clear, unlike those that arose after him. Feelings for Rogers are also clear, but these are not the feelings that were before. James doesn't remember those feelings because they were Bucky's feelings. And James is different, and he thinks differently.

James and Steve have been living together for years and they have a damn kid. A funny boy that they found at the age of five on one of the missions. Bucky is pretty sure he loves Peter. He loves like his son. He remembers every, even the smallest detail about him. He remembers teaching him how to ride a bike and the first broken knees. Remembers Peter the first time he called him "dad." With Steve, it happened faster. Because Steve is different. He talks a lot, he is smart and knows how to communicate with children. James doesn't know how. James doesn't like to talk at all. Bucky's either. Bucky was chatty, and sometimes James gets ashamed of his memories. James has never been like Bucky, but he knows Steve is waiting for it.

James tried. He really tried to be like that. Tried to joke like Bucky, tried to use phrases and words, but it's like pretending to be another person. Sometimes he thinks it’s unfair. It is unfair that Steve sees in him not James himself, but a shadow of his past. This is also lousy. He always wanted to be not Bucky, but James. I wanted to be loved not for these four letters in the name.

It's not Steve's fault, and James understands that. It is difficult for a person to understand how James exists at all. Exists with scraps of memory with a new personality. There is fighting the urge to escape from everyone who utters a name from their past.

He remembers one thing, just one segment from that time. But he remembers it clearly enough to revel in it. He was Steve's James that day. He was beaten that day and Bucky didn't make it. Didn't have time, damn it! This never happened, but that night he just talked to some girl and did not notice how Steve disappeared.

Steve was lying by the trash can, choking on his own blood. James thanked all the gods for not having an asthma attack. On that day, he carried him home in his arms, blaming himself for everything. But Steve didn't think he was guilty. He told him:

“You don’t owe me anything, James.” Blood dripped from his lip. Then Bucky flinched.

“I owe you more than I think.” Steve passed out, and Bucky dragged him in his arms all the way to the apartment, to the bed, just not to wake him up.

This was the only time Steve called him James. Maybe he just doesn’t remember something, but damn it, it’s not that important. He remembers thin wrists, blue eyes with bruises under his eyes, and wild fear. He remembers Steve as he will never be. Weak, needing a fucking Bucky who didn't make it. He remembers him as a hand-picked James, who eventually caught those freaks and knocked out of them any desire to climb again. James feels bad again. It floats in the eyes, and he no longer sees the goal.

- Damn, Barnes, what are you there? Fell asleep? - James shakes his head, trying to control himself and finally pulls the trigger. He looks down for a couple of minutes, and then notices a familiar figure. Blond hair, brown jacket. He couldn't help but recognize Steve. - Hey James! Come on faster! You will be noticed - but he has no time to consider it.

James escapes, fearing to be seen. For Steve, he works in a bookstore today. In the same bookstore towards which he is heading. And Bucky runs there too. Runs across the rooftops, down the fire escapes, pulling off his suit on the go. He tosses it into his backpack, pulls on a gray T-shirt and pulls his hair into a ponytail. He breathes heavily, trying to catch his breath, and plops down at the checkout counter.

“Hi,” the forced smile on his face speaks for itself. Steve stands at the entrance, afraid to take a step forward.

- What's on your cheek? - he nevertheless comes closer, being very close. They are separated only by the counter. James runs his fingers over his own cheek and blood remains on them.

“Damn, I did cut myself,” he groans, hiding his hands back under the counter. There are a couple more cuts on them.

- I broke a can in a warehouse, I don't know where the bank is from, - he scratches the back of his head, accidentally touching an elastic band, which immediately flies off, and his hair falls on his shoulders in a disobedient shock. - In the same ... - he sighs.

“Don't pick them up.” Steve reaches for his hair, running his fingers, separating it into strands.

“I'll be here early today,” Jame whispers, not knowing why.

“Peter’s back at Tony’s,” Steve sighs.

- Maybe I should bang Stark? A smile spreads across James's face.

“I haven't seen you in a good couple of months. I don’t want to wait out of jail yet, ”Steve whispers now. He looks down at the floor, ashamed of his own weakness. James smiles anyway. Steve came. Came to him. I came because I missed you.

“I'll take the day off tomorrow.” He sees the corners of Steve's lips twitch.

Starker ==========

Tony is on the roof sooner than he thought. He walks out of the suit right behind Parker, and he flinches.

- Tony? - his eyes are swollen from crying, and it seems he is still sobbing.

“Tony….” Stark sighs, sinking to the edge just next to Peter. Their thighs are touching, but Tony prefers not to think about it. Peter moves in even closer, and his head rests on Tony's shoulder. He cries out loud, and Stark has absolutely no idea what to do in such situations.

“I don’t understand.” Peter shivers. - I do not understand why? Why do you love him? Tony flinches.

- Your father is a very good man, Peter, many people love him, - Stark, imperceptibly even for himself, puts his hand on the guy's shoulders. “Even a cold heart,” he grins, but the joke doesn’t make Peter even the least bit amused.

“My dad is a complete idiot for letting you go.” He sobs again, but this time his voice is a little calmer. The joke seems to have had the desired effect.

“I agree,” Tony grins again. - But, you know, Frozen deserves him no less than I, at least they played together in the sandbox, - Stark did not know at all if they played, but decided that this would make Peter smile at least a little. The corners of his lips really float up. Tony leans over, reaches out to his face to wipe the tears from his cheeks. Peter leans forward, imprinting his lips on his palm. It seems to Tony that the place of the kiss is starting to burn. - Oh, Peter ...

“Sorry, I know.” Peter moves a little to the side, but Stark catches his arm.

“To hell, little one, it's too complicated.” He pulls him up to him, grabbing him into his arms like a small child and hugging him as tightly as he can within his safety. Peter sobs again and Tony wants it to stop.

- May I stay with you? Just one night please. Dad really deserves a break from a bad son like me. ”Tony shakes his head.

“If you don’t come, he’ll go crazy,” he sobbed again. “Damn, Peter, it's not even dinner yet, and you're already talking about the night,” Tony lets go of his embrace, but Peter still lies on his chest, clutching his red-gloved fingers on Tony's home shirt.

“Let the night come now,” Stark grins.

“If I could do it for you, I would do it,” he’s not lying. Anything. Anything for this boy. Since his childhood. Oh, how many cries of Steve there were, how many he asked not to pamper him, but Tony could not do otherwise, because the whole world was ready to throw at his feet. He allowed small pens to dig into parts that cost tens of millions, to break them, play with them, and assemble them like a constructor. He gave him the most expensive phone for his birthday, from which he immediately got it from Rogers. He gave him a car at the age of fifteen, but was forced to pick it up for the same reason as the phone. Rogers never approved of that. “You know, I'm almost your godfather,” Tony grins.

- Almost? “Peter doesn't understand it, and he doesn't want to understand it too much.

“I remember you in five years,” Stark shrugs. “And, you know, it's hard to talk to you about feelings when only eleven years ago…” Stark hesitated. “Damn it, eleven years ago, Peter! Eleven years! - he did not think about it. Peter was present in his life for eleven years, and Stark did not notice it.

- It means something? Why can't you talk to me about feelings? Stark was silent. He himself did not know the answer to this question. Just because there was some kind of nonsense in my head. Something that Rogers certainly wouldn't have appreciated. Something for which he would definitely unscrew Tony's head.

“Damn, Peter, you're confusing me.” He kicked Peter's head off his own chest and stood up.

- Where are you going? - Peter stayed on the edge.

“I'm home, and you, apparently, too,” Tony saw the tears begin to gather in the corners of his eyes again. Peter was starting to roar again. “Oh no, doll, you can't get me through with tears,” he entered his suit, but at the very last moment Peter grabbed his hand and pulled him over.

“I don’t care.” Tony wasn’t surprised by the boy’s strength. He is, after all, a super-man, a spider-man, the son of two super soldiers. Tony was not surprised by this, but he was angry that he could not resist him. Peter's arms wrapped around his neck and his lips pressed against Stark's. And he couldn't. I couldn't stop when I needed it most.

- Child, what are you doing? Tony groaned. He seems to have never felt so bad.

“I'm not a child,” Peter said again. Stark just shook his head.

- Of course a child, - Tony was bad. The bad news is that he felt aroused by every cell of his body. Because Peter's lips felt so sweet to him, because it felt so good to kiss them. From the fact that after that he will never be able to look Steve in the eye again.

“I love you, Mr. Stark.” He sobs again and drops his head on his shoulder. “I love you, Tony,” but Tony is silent. He buries his fingers in his hair, presses it to him with one hand. This boy is crazy, and Stark has a hard time thinking. He definitely doesn't want problems. Damn it, he definitely doesn't want problems.

- First, I'll talk to your father, - he sighs, still going a couple of steps away.

- No! No Please! He would never allow it anyway! - Peter almost screams.

- Oh, devil, small, enough! - Stark is angry. He is angry with himself because he is ready to spit on everything. For all the norms of morality, for all their principles. Willing to go against the law, against, damn Steve Rogers. And this is what scares me the most.

“I can't,” Peter whispers, looking down. And even that he got from Rogers.

“Everyone, Peter, home.” Tony returns to his suit, but this time he flies away almost immediately, watching as Peter immediately jumps down. Tony knows where the web is taking him. After a couple of blocks, Peter catches up with him, but Stark pretends not to notice.

Peter stands outside the door, but Tony doesn't open it. Peter knocks on her, but Tony pretends he's not there. This is stupid, and he thinks about which of them is the bigger child? He tries to save himself from the mistake, to save Peter, but it seems to him that he only makes it worse. Tears on long eyelashes are painful. And where the hell are his parents when they are needed? He almost breaks down to call Rogers, but something stops him. The same thing that makes you open the damn door.

Peter is crying with bruises under his eyes and a puffy face. Clutching a mask in his hands. Peter is unhappy, the way Stark is not used to seeing him. Peter is a stupid teenager in love, which brings him a lot of problems. Peter is overwhelmed and the fault is Tony Stark. Peter is silent.

"Sorry," is all Tony can squeeze out of himself.

“How much longer could I stand outside that fucking door? - the voice trembles, breaks.

“I don’t know.” Tony takes a step back, letting him into the house. Peter comes very close.

- What do you know? - the last step and it turns out to be literally in millimeters.

“Nothing.” Tony has difficulty breathing, he’s afraid to move. Peter reaches for his face, Tony puts his hand over his.

“I know a thing or two.” He leans forward, covering Stark's lips with hiss again. Tony responds because he can't hold back anymore. Because this boy literally decided to drive him crazy, finish him off with his touches, kisses and eyes. “I know you love me too, Mr. Stark.” He breathes that into Tony's lips. “I know you love me,” he repeats, and Tony has no choice but to give up. He has nothing to argue with.

“I love you,” he whispers, cupping his face in his palms. “But this is not normal, Peter, and I’ll never be with you, no matter how much you want it.” The hands disappear from Peter's face, and he steps back again.

- Tony! - Peter rushes after him.

“No, little guy, there’s no Tony.” He turns around. His eyes are filled with anger. “I’m Mister Stark for you, damn it’s almost your godfather.” He’s angry with himself again, but Peter’s not going to explain it, and Stark’s not going to. - And I will never share a bed with you, Peter, you are a child, think with your own head, - he goes to the kitchen, trying to calm the rising anger.

- But why!? Peter runs after him, grabs his arm.

“God, I'm going to kick you out the door.” Tony throws the boy off his hands and pours himself a glass of whiskey again.

- I do not care, I will not leave! Drive out as much as you want! I'll be sitting under your fucking door, and you, as godfather, probably know how stubborn I am - and Tony knew. Knew Peter wouldn't give up until he got his way.

“I'll call your dad,” Peter just grins.

- This is not a trump card, - Stark did not hope that it would somehow work.

“Then I'll find a better way to get you off the hook,” Peter just shrugs and jumps onto the table. He sits directly opposite Stark, crossing his legs, looking at Stark with his huge eyes.

- And which? - he bites his lip, throws his head back a little and Stark's throat dries up. Tony pours a second glass of whiskey and after a second it is empty.

- Peter, stop, - putting the glass in the sink, he tries to walk past Peter into the hall, but he catches him with his feet, dragging him to him. Stark always got drunk quickly, and considering that today he drinks from the very morning, this is not surprising. He almost collapses onto Peter, resting his hands on either side of his thighs. - Your mother! That is, the father! Tony groans.

“So which way, Mr. Stark? - Peter is smart, he was always different from other children in this feature. Peter is very smart, and this is not at all in Stark's hands. He cleared everything for a long time, even on the roof he realized that he had a trump card. He's, not Stark's, but Peter's, dammit.

- What are you up to? - Tony gives up. "What are you trying to do, Peter?" Do you want me to fuck you? Tony looks into his eyes, and Peter is still at a loss. His self-confidence fades with the word "fucked," but Peter quickly regains control.

- I want to, - a slight grin and Stark, with all his foolishness, hits the table with his fist.

- Are you an idiot or what !? “That's not what Peter expected. - Yes, I am fit for you! He yells, pulling Peter off the table. He tosses it to the floor like a fucking rag doll and hangs from above. - Did you want extreme? Decided that I am the best candidate for your games? - Stark's knee is between Peter's legs, and he finally gets scared. He puts his hands on his shoulders, trying to knock Stark off him.

Love. When I pronounce this word, in an instant I encompass with my inner gaze everything around, everything that exists. Love is what drives me. Now I'm talking about love as a connection between people. The thread that connects absolutely everything in the world of the soul. And not only souls, absolutely everything. For example, the noise of the ocean, the noise of a waterfall, and the noise of a fire are very similar. And there is this subtle noise in every creation. This is Love.

And the manifestations of love can be very different. Nagging tenderness, warmth in the chest, joy and bliss are recognizable indicators of Love. Few people know that hatred, anger and aggression are also manifestations of love. Where there are feelings, there is love. Love in the sense of energy. Another thing is that it mixes with inner pain and turns into these unsightly and socially unacceptable feelings.

How to separate the wheat from the chaff? How to recognize the ringing string of the Soul in the cacophony of this orchestra of mixed feelings?

For me a fundamental support in the land of love was the fairy tale for adults AS-Exupery "The Little Prince" This is a fairy tale about the miracle of love, about distant planets, that adults are too serious, and the best of them are like children into the extraordinary. This fairy tale explains to us that “you cannot see the most important thing with your eyes” and that “only the heart is vigilant”

And the words of the Fox "you are forever responsible for those you have tamed" became a symbol of Humanity and Understanding.

The little prince lived alone on his little planet. He gently pulled out the sprouts of the baobabs and cleaned out the volcanoes. One day, a rose suddenly bloomed on his planet. She was very beautiful and moody. This upset and offended the little prince. And one day he left her, going to travel to different planets. But the most important thing he learned was on planet Earth.

Once he met five thousand roses exactly like his Rose. The little prince was very upset. But the meeting with the Fox opened his eyes. Then he returned to the flowers and said: “You are not in the least like my rose ... it is the only one dear to me. After all, it was her, and not you, I watered every day. I covered her, not you, with a glass cover. He covered her with a screen, protecting her from the wind "

Perhaps this is one of the most unusual mysteries: on what basis do two choose each other? It was good for the little prince: only one rose grew on his planet. He cared about her, worried about her and took offense at her. And he fell in love with her. And when there is a whole garden of roses around - which one to choose?

Of course, this is inexplicable. That first impulse of the heart, which may be the beginning of love, can be experienced by everyone many times. But love is work, and to love is a verb. This means action. And love is a spiritual work that not everyone can master. That is why not everyone is lucky to "meet" their love. Not ready to just invest in a relationship.

I think that when there is this feeling of the presence of love, regardless of the presence of an object, then the half is found much faster and easier. And exactly according to your soul.

And all stages of the development of relations also smoothly and harmoniously lead to real Love - Intimacy. What are these stages?

1. Falling in love is euphoria.

2. Addiction.

3. We begin to notice the flaws.

4. The emergence of the first quarrels.

Very often, at point 4, there is a stupor in the relationship. But as the popular proverb says, "dear ones scold, only amuse themselves." Indeed, after reconciliation, the brightness of feelings arises again. And the cycle repeats itself. Only quarrels can happen more and more often, and love gradually fades away, and, to be precise, does not even have time to blossom. Unfortunately, psychologists very often work only with these four points. And the person himself gets stuck at this stage of the relationship. But according to Vedic knowledge, there are the following stages:

5. Dharma. The purpose of a man and a woman. Understanding your nature is no less important than the ability to competently get out of their conflicts.

6. Respect. Only by understanding and accepting our nature, we can accept the nature of another person.

7. Friendship. Yes, do not be surprised, only then can real friendship mature.

8. Finally, love. A truly intimate relationship.

But that's not all. After the birth of love, the task is to learn how to swaddle and lull her, to maintain her flowering. How can you keep yourself and the only one you love from a simple interested glance around, in order to remain the only one among all women, like Rose of the little prince?

After all, it is much more difficult to hold on to love than to find it. It would seem that this is a big secret for so many people. But Saint - Exupery was one of those who knows this secret.

When the little prince began his journey, he visited several planets. An absolute monarch lived on one of them. He was very kind, and therefore gave only reasonable orders. “Everyone should be asked what he can give. Power must be reasonable, ”said the king. He also said: "If I tell my general to turn to a sea gull ... and if the general does not fulfill it, then it will be my fault, not his."

The struggle for power often begins in the family from the first moments of life. But we don't owe anyone anything. And in love as well.

As the wise Fox said, in order to tame someone, you need to be patient. I believe this is one of the derivatives of love. The little prince flew away from his planet because he was angry with a capricious rose. Who was to blame for their quarrels? Both of course. Rose ruled unwisely, and the little prince still did not know how to love, just as almost all of us do not know how in our youth.

And again the words of the Fox come to mind: “Only the heart is sharp-sighted. You cannot see the most important thing with your eyes. ”The little prince, hearing these words, understood something about his rose:“ I was in vain listening to her. You don't need to listen to what the flowers say, you just need to look at them and breathe their aroma. I didn’t understand anything then! It was necessary to judge not by words, but by deeds. ”I think the author meant that the one who knows how to love loves in spite of trifles and does not accumulate minor grievances. He loves in deeds, not in words.

Very often we devalue the real support of our other half. We don't notice whatman does for us. And of course, bad helpers for us are: unreasonable authority and high expectations. They cut the buds of love at the root like a great lawn mower.

But when you love, you want not only for yourself, but what the Other needs. And you can see through the eyes of the Other. Then love gives incomparable joy, then it is like a gift to the heart, like the water that the Pilot and the Little Prince found with difficulty.

He drank it with his eyes closed. The water from this well did more than just restore strength. The song of the wheel, the long journey under the starry sky, the effort of the hands - that's what made it so sweet ...

And when you love, you want to present the best version of yourself. Developing and thinking, feeling and accepting, we are not afraid to be open, we are always different for our halves. And they do not have the slightest opportunity to look at other roses.

Before meeting the Fox, the little prince met the snake. She responded to his request to take him out to the people, because it is still lonely in the desert, with these words "It is also lonely among people."

Here it is the second position “it’s lonely among people too” as opposed to the first “you are responsible for everyone you have tamed” Or maybe it’s lonely for someone who simply doesn’t know how to love? It's not easy to be responsible.

The little prince thought about this a lot and decided to return to his rose. “You know… my rose… I'm responsible for it. And she is so weak and simple-minded "

Perhaps the main thing is hidden in this: to learn to love and be responsible for the one you love?

For the pilot, the little prince was weak, and he was responsible for him, but for the prince there was a weak rose ... And that strong person whom you love, alone with himself, he is also weak and also simple-minded, who will help him if not you?

And then quarrels will surely go away, there will be a quantum leap in relationships. And you know, not only in relationships between men and women, but also in relationships with other people. After all, Love it binds absolutely everyone and everything. Your mother, who until now was difficult to understand and accept, will suddenly open up to you from a completely different side. Or someone else will surprise you with their sincerity ... Or maybe you will start to hear your children? I do not know ... Only one heart is sharp-sighted ...

And love ... it just is, it cannot but be ....

I want to tell you about how I divided my life into two parts. Then I was 24, I had a daughter of three years old, there was a guy with whom I had lived for 3 years, but did not love him. He was a very good person: he did everything for me, he did not refuse me anything, but I did not need such a man. We women like it when we are tortured. By nature, he was very calm, quiet, a little even timid, and even smaller than me. Once I honestly told him that I didn’t love him and couldn’t live with him. But you know, we are all egoists, that is, when a person really loves unselfishly, he will say: you know, I love you so much, so let me go, since you feel bad with me. But in fact: be with me, please do not quit, I will feel bad. A strong person who can just let you go, but there are few of them. In general, we parted.

site

Then I met my future husband. He was the way I always dreamed: strong, courageous, and even a military man. I was afraid of him, I could not utter a word, my hands were shaking, I blushed at every word, I was a very modest girl. Then I thought it was very bad and he would not love me like that. At that time I had tranquilizer pills and before meeting with him I drank a pill. This made me relaxed, uninhibited, I did not blush and could communicate freely. He recognized me just like that, but in my heart I felt differently. This lasted two months, I was on pills. In my heart I understood that I was playing some kind of double game.

We got married, after 3 months I got pregnant (then I no longer took pills). But all the same, some kind of deception remained in my soul, I had the feeling that he perceives me not at all the way I feel the site inside, but sees in me that person: a liberated, brave other, but not me. I played too much, I created my second personality.

After giving birth, I began to feel depressed, my husband was a stranger to me, even my son seemed a stranger, I felt deception, lies, games all around. And then I realized what I had done to myself, I learned what depression is: you don't need anything, everything that interested you, even your husband and children, is scary. I got what I wanted, but what, as it turned out, I don't need.

This is how I lived with 2 personalities. When my husband looked at me, I could no longer determine who I really am. I became a stranger to myself, I was scared to look at myself in the mirror, a stranger was looking at me from there.

But my husband was also not a gift. He was jealous, cruel, I could not take a step without his knowledge. The person is very domineering, intractable, heavy. I was helpless, addicted, could not buy anything without his control and approval. I had a phobia site, I was afraid of people, I could not communicate calmly, I was afraid to go out, I was afraid to be alone at home and even to be alone with myself. It's a miracle that I didn't end up in a psychiatric hospital.

We were together for 6 years when I left him. Now I have been alone for 6 years without him, too, with my beloved son. I love him. And my daughter is clever and beautiful, I am proud of my children. I am still recovering, but I feel quite happy. That man before her husband, he was too good, he could not give me this knowledge that I had to learn to get myself out of this pit. I now understand that only a person like my husband could help me in my suffering. Because we learn, unfortunately, through suffering, and until we fully feel the weight of our cross, we will not begin to think at all. So we will swim in search of happiness, like blind kittens in the vast ocean of life.

Only now I understand that that experience was necessary for me. site Now I am completely different, I learned so much about life, learned to rejoice at every blade of grass, appreciate every moment, rejoice even in the bad, learned to forgive, see both good and bad in people, learned the meaning of life, and this is worth a lot.

And I have nothing to regret. This means that life could not make me start thinking in any other way. Never regret anything, accept everything in your life - it is too short and too beautiful to waste on self-teaching. Live now, enjoying every second, love life with all your heart and it will answer you in kind. And trust her she knows what you need.