We All Have a Sickness.
How redundant. How redundant the subject, love, is. We all experience it in some way, and yet only a select few of us actually get to keep it in their lives in a pure form. Of course, the cliche is coming……..”I’m sick of love”, and that’s the summation on the subject in my mind; a year later from the greatest month of my life, the subject matter still burns as brightly as it did that day. The pain of losing it, was nothing short of losing someone through death, when that entity is wiped from your reality permanently, and yet the most miniscule things will conjure painful memories even though you try to fight it. I’ve lost love in the past, I’ve dealt with what pain in brings and am no stranger to betrayal, lies, deciet and the numerous synonyms that always seem to accompany said situation, but this one is different, this one was a blow that took the breath out of me and made me realize that the missing piece of my life’s puzzle I searched for so long to find was forever lost in the Hoover Vaccum of life’s missed opportunities.
I gave my being, poured my soul, and every other metaphor you can think of for being a merciless whore of love. People say when you find something that you truly have a connection to, you should always give everything you have to make sure you are able to commandeer the full potential of the situation, and unfortunately, dark eyeliner and lips that ensnared made sure I didn’t hesitate for a second. For exactly one month, I lived the Comedy-Romance flick that everyone left envying the couple, except didn’t see the horrible death of the pathetic male protaganist coming. We assimilated the role of the couple everyone wanted to be, we thrived off the knowledge that people wanted to know our secret like it was some kind of hidden family recipe. Two people unseperable, so in love, so into each other, so compatible, the situation was too good to be true, and as most of you have already finished the rest of the sentence have surmised: it was. My disillusion was my greatest downfall, my total immersion was my undoing, and my greatest enemy; when she finally decided to walk out of my life after one month of pure bliss, the downward spiral I experienced was much like the drug epic Trainspotting, I was coming off hard on the opiate of love, and the four walls of my room closed in on me like a prison of my own design. I was the only one who could see it, the world passed on as mine stood still, my mind tried to pause the moment she turned her back and waited in vain to begin to play when she ruterned with a smile on her face, what a hopeless quest that proved to be.
Every song on the radio somehow understood me, and taunted me; simple and cliche lyrics played to the tune of my dilemma, the melody of melodramatic lovesongs pervaded my limited defenses and raided my heart even though all I had to do was turn the volume down. A simple solution to a simple problem that just became more complicated the more I gave it attention, the formula to disaster that was clearly presented to me quickly became a hazy picture in my mind as if I was dazing off on Math class back in high school again. Shooting off hopeless text messages, looking for advice, searching my mind for a solution, all the while knowing the answer to my very question the entire time. It was: let go. It was simple, it was the easiest way out, it was healthy, but in my eyes, it was like signing the waiver to a brain surgeon with a shaky hand. The high I got from thinking of what we had was enough to overpower the obvious solution in my head, the falling structure of my mentality was not enough to make me run in fear, I only stood in awe of the wonderful collapse of a person that took exactly 21 years to build and 1 hour to demolish.
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