So love is a funny thing.
It sweeps you off your feet. It sweeps out your insides. It sweeps away everything else, whether you like it or not.
Falling in love is like falling into a cloud.
At first, it's not scary, no. It's beautiful. You're up high- so blissfully high- with billowing pushes and pulls of gorgeous white around you. At first, it's the most amazing thing you could ever think of. You could ever feel. The kind of feeling that can't be induced by the most potent drug. The kind of feeling that lifts you above all else, annihilates any ailments you'll ever have.
You collide with a beautiful array of a winter wonderland, a world of soft, divine dreams, an end to your hardships. Suddenly anything is possible. Suddenly, everything is possible.
And then you keep falling.
You don't realize it. Your vision, your heart, your life- it's laden with the fabric of glee and carelessness and no problems at all. And then it starts to thin. Things are still bright. They're still amazing. The sun still shines.
But things get worse.
Maybe a wistful glance from him, maybe a little less comfort of the downy mattress of sky pressing against you. Maybe a sour word or two, maybe a complete hole plummeting you deeper into that white snowy world.
And then it's all blue.
And you realize you're going down.
And oh, is it beautiful. Oh, is it sad.
But you're falling.
Not in love.
Not out of love.
Away from love.
So you curse the cloud, you curse the world, and you curse him. You curse him with everything you have. Your flailing body expels regrets like venom. You say things that shouldn't be said- that shouldn't be heard.
You don't know what you want, you'll never know what you want.
Because then he's gone.
And you realize it's all your fault.
You wanted this.
So why does looking at his body, dead, limbs splayed out on either side, torn off, make you sick? Why do the writhing white creatures that overtake his carcass make you angry? Why do his glassy, beautiful eyes that no longer see make you want to cry?
You told him to leave.
You wanted this.
I wanted this.
I told him to die.
And yet, standing there, looking at him, in a pool of blood, I could not feel one pang of satisfaction. Even as the draped crimson ribbons glistening in the white moon blinded me. I couldn't feel anything. I had got my wish.
I wanted it-
And now he's gone.
With a crack of ivory bones, I've fallen back to the dirt.