Here’s this week’s Picture it & Write! I’m sorry I’m late!
Maybe I had noticed it too late.
The most dangerous thing about love was that it could deprive you of all your senses, all except the one deep inside of you: that of your heart. When trapped within its unyielding grasp, it would hug you so hard that you would feel the loud drumming of that central organ of yours; it would suffocate you and hypnotize you…
As I walked through the main corridor of the school, I could feel that danger roaming everywhere, from every dark corner to every shining lockers, banging as if to applaud the show. I have never really understood how could people stand it, embrace and kiss and…
How could they hold so much power inside and more importantly, how could they share it to someone else with so much force, without hurting the other? How could they express love so easily? How could they treat it with such ease? Maybe I was the one to be too weak.
Girls giggling, boys laughing… Moans from the toilets.
And lockers banging still.
Love was a power too strong. It could crush brains and tear hearts. It could make anyone his blind disciple, forever.
It would not get me, no, it wouldn’t.
So I continued my way, all stolid, followed the never-ending corridor, reaching out for my biology classroom…
A loud kiss on my right.
Then shouts and cries. Tears, possibly. On the left.
They break up, but then the guy does not mind. His anger quickly vanishes as his newly awakened senses caught sight of another girl… And his senses would be lost again into love.
Finally, I was not so sure.
Maybe that corridor, the life at school, all the drama, the… love relationships: they were all fake.
That was not love. Maybe infatuation, or lust… or whatever the cruelty of puberty could plant into our vulnerable teenage minds. But it was not love. Love was not so easily discarded or caught. Love was…
The most dangerous thing about love was that it was so subtle that it was hard for anyone of us to identify it.
Everything else was illusions, sinking into your mind and misleading you about love. Because in truth, love is cruel and mischievous. It is… bad. It plays with your feelings, your happiness… your whole perspective of life. It hurts.
Yes, most of all, it hurts. Then, it makes you so happy that you feel you have reached everything you have dreamt for. And you realise that everything you have dreamt for merely lay right in front of you the whole time.
But then, it crushes all of these thoughts with shadows… Merciless love. Agony of the soul.
And I saw none of all that as I walked on.
Still, the banging of lockers never stopped.
No, it would never stop. Not until the path was clear, out of danger.
But unfortunately for all of us, the most dangerous thing about love is that it simply never dies.
An Evil Nymph.