To me, love is a thing of unsurpassed beauty, unfathomable cruelty, and pure pain. No love story is ever perfect. Many are just figments of their creator's imagination, pretty trinkets that mercilessly taunt the broken heart of another.
Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White.
They waited in their stone towers & cottages, prayed for a Prince Charming to sweep them off their feet. Prince Charming came, professed his love in a passionate kiss and the couple rode off into the sunset atop a stallion of brilliant white. But what happens after that? Love withers with age, they grow tired of one another, and the mistakes they once tolerated now have no place in their marriage. They mistook passion for love and they suffered. Love is the devil reincarnated, blinding you to faults, opening your eyes to false splendor. Once it has you deep in its thrall, it strikes, unforgiving and malicious. Dragging you down to the depths of Hell.
That's why I can't bring myself to love you.
You are my everything. My hopes, my dreams, the rainbow in my life.
But at what cost?
Every restless night, my gaze drifts inadvertently to my mobile, sitting idle on the desk. The voice in my head screams at me to call you, contact you, to hear your voice once more. I used to put up a fight, to resist the allure, vehemently in denial. But now I know it does no good at all. The more I distance myself, the stronger the urge to be with you. Now I just pick up the phone and dial your number, hoping you won't answer, throat tight with anticipation & dread. As always, I hear the crackle of reception and the lilt of your voice, "Hello?". Everything in me tenses for a split second before I reply with a tentative "Hi". I feel the smile blossoming on your fair face, and the slightest hint of a grin flashes across my own before sorrow masks it once more. We make small talk about our friends, school, and life in general. All too soon I have to go, and I sense the disappointment in your voice even thought you know I'll call you again in no time. We bid each other bittersweet goodbyes, and I allow the tears to flow unchecked.
Why does it have to be this way?
I live for those conversations of ours, drabbles that hold our fragile friendship together. But they hurt me. Because with each phone call, I'm reminded of the distance between us, reminded of the fact that I'll never have you the way I did before. Our time together has a place in my most treasured of memories, but the fact that I remember each vivid detail so painfully, tears at my heart. These calls do you no justice, and only do me harm. Because every time I hang up, mobile clenched tightly in my fist, I lose another part of my soul to you.
See what love does to me?
But I know you will never see. You never have.
Oh, and I like chocolate. (: