Paradox

Call me silly.

Foolish.

Naive.

Call me anything. It matters not to me.

For I am guilty of all this. And of more.

Why?

One word: love.

Ah, yes. Love.

Now, you may say that love is a glorious thing.

That it is.

You may argue that it is beautiful.

Right again.

But it is also horrible. Cruel. Ugly.

If you do not agree with this, I must inform you that you have never truly been in love.

There is nothing more glorious than the first time your lips meet the lips of your love.

It is heaven.

It is hell.

So intense that you fear it may very well kill you, and you wish it so end before it deals you any further damage.

But for you to part would surely be a fatal act as well.

Your head spins.

Your heart pounds like a hammer, and you only hope that it does not burst out of your chest.

Every nerve in your body has been ignited.

You are certain that you will combust before it is over.

And after that moment, the world is a wonderful place.

You survive the day by thinking only of her.

Suddenly, you want to be a better person. You want it for her. To be worthy of her.

For the first time in your life, you are living for someone else.

And, boy, does it scare you.

So much, in fact, that on occasion you wish it had never started.

But you know, deep down, that you could never let her go.

Nothing is more beautiful than her wild red hair, and how it smells of apples.

Or the way that she twirls it absently around her long and graceful fingers as she reads her poetry books.

Or the sound of her voice as she recites sonnets to you.

The fall of her laughter as you roll your eyes and feign disgust, because she can see the smile beginning on your face.

The curve of her cherry colored lips as she smiles at you, or the taste of them pressed upon your own.

The warmth of her body as you embrace her.

Those graceful fingers tracing designs on your chest.

But the most beautiful thing is when she says it.

When she tells you that she loves you.

The look in her deep brown eyes tells you that she means it.

And, as much as you hate admitting it, this means more to you than anything in the world.

You are sure that you could rule the world.

No magic needed. No armies.

Just her.

She gives you strength that you have never before known.

But you are unaware that these elaborate walls are crumbling.

Nothing is more horrible than the haunted, shadowed look in her eyes.

The shimmer of new tears, threatening to spill out over her pale cheeks.

The slight tremble of her carmine lips as she struggles to find the words.

The millions of questions that run though your mind when the dreaded words finally spill forth. From the mouth that you have tasted so many times before.

But the worst thing is the pain on her face.

You know that this is killing her.

The hint of red around her eyes tells you that she has shed her fair share of tears.

And this makes your stomach turn.

You want to scream at her.

Demand answers.

You want to have her on her knees, begging you for forgiveness.

To make her hurt and ache as you do now.

But the sight of her now tear stained face cuts you to the core.

Nothing is crueler than the feeling of helplessness that is overcoming you.

Standing in silence as she stumbles over her weak apology, clenching your jaw.

Biting back the venomous comments that are springing to your tongue.

Blinking back the hot tear drops stinging the corners of your eyes.

But the cruelest thing, by far, is when she turns away.

Without so much as a goodbye.

The way she is biting her lip tells you that she is on her way to him.

And you wish, now more than ever, that he would drop dead.

You are so angry.

You want so much to break something.

You wish that you could be as cold as you were before her.

It would all be so easy then.

But you know that she has changed you, forever more.

Nothing is uglier than the sound of her footsteps fading down the corridor, echoing in your ears.

The necklace that you gave her for her birthday, now pressed into the palm of your hand.

This hall, screaming with memories.

The knowledge that you let her walk away, without so much as a word.

Knowing that it would not have made a difference.

But the ugliest thing of all is you without her.

The icy facade in place once again.

The glow that she exudes tells you that she is happy now.

And you can never look too long, for it is unbearable.

You pretend that you don’t care.

You smirk and you snicker.

You tell yourself that it doesn’t matter.

That she doesn’t matter.

But, in reality, you miss her more than words could ever express.

To this day, I still maintain the foolish hope that she will come back some day.

Bloody idiotic of me, really.

But this is what love does.

It takes what you used to be, and twists it around.

Until you cannot even recognize what you have become.

Now, I’m not telling you to stay away from it.

Oh, no.

But I am going to warn you.

Be careful with your heart.

No matter how thick your armor may be, someone can always get through it.

It could be your best friend.

It could be your worst enemy.

You will try to escape it. Everyone does.

But you will never succeed.