L’amour assassination

A legend was told of a beautiful princess that lived in a palace in the clouds. The journey to reach her was a treacherous one and only the most fearless, strongest warrior with the purest heart could be successful. Her skin was like silk, her lips lavish, her body could only be described as perfectly, perfected, perfection of the beauty standards of the time.

It was told that whoever could reach her would be bestowed her hand in marriage and an eternity of bliss, as well as ruling the world from the heavens. A million men imparted on the quest. They traversed the highest mountains, the deepest oceans, the bitter frozen tundra and arid deserts. All but one perished.

Emancipated from the journey, the warrior crawled the steps up to the clouds. He meekly pushed the palace doors open to discover the diva draped only in diamonds, surrounded by riches. The princess arose and walked silently towards the sole survivor. From his knees he stared, mesmerized by the princess’ walk.

She coolly addressed him, “I was promised a strong warrior and you merely appear to be a bag of bones, a beggar at best.” And with a sneer she forced him from the heavens and he fell through the clouds. Falling mercilessly awaiting the impact of his bones with the earth, the warrior lost hope and awaited death. In a twist of fate, the warrior landed on a bunch of straw bundled into a rickshaw pulled by a woman.

By all accounts, this woman was hideously unattractive by all the standards of beauty of the time. The woman cared for the warrior and nursed him back to health. Unfortunately the journey had taken a toll on the man that he could not recover easily from. Years passed and when the man regained strength he was no longer the attractive man he once was. He married the woman that had taken such good care of him, and fulfilled all of his dreams in life. This is society.

I’m in the middle of three lanes. Stuck between late adolescence and early middle age. To my left, a tyranny of Tinderellas consuming affection and attention like an army of Mrs. Pac Man. The illusion of innocence portrayed perpetually. Conversations of automobile rims and superficial beauty of women dominate. More concerned about what an ass looks like than virtues. An idealist generation that thinks of life as a puzzle, and I’m just a piece that they scrunch and chop to fit perfectly for them. To my right, the resignation that youth no longer finds them attractive prevails. Chasing the dragon of a past time, but never reclaiming a feeling they once had.

I was lost in a foreign world of dating. Paranoid of others’ agendas. Searching for validation. Solitude, pain, despair. Good for art; bad for artists.

The love of my life lays next to me and asks a seemingly simple question, “What do you think love is?” My only response is that I’m not old enough to fully understand that yet. Then, knowing that when someone asks you a deep question like that they probably want to answer it themselves, I repeat the question to her. She answers that it is like the feeling when you are warmed by sunlight that is just the right temperature. This is an interesting dichotomy since the culture she was raised in considers light skin a symbol of attractiveness and wealth, while darker skin represents poverty and inferiority.

In the following days, I let my thoughts ruminate on love. It can either have simplistic beauty or enthralling complexity. You can either watch Deal or No Deal or Jeopardy. One could be fleeting while the other resolute. Some last while others fade.

Is it really heartbreak that you feel? Or is it that you want control over the most important decision of your life? You want to draft your #1 pick. You want to choose. Egomaniacal behavior that is the exact antithesis of love hides in the bushes right next to it. We see you, Kanye. It is easy to get confused and deny the right or embrace the dark. Mistakes are made. Some are righted. Others stay wronged. Life goes on.

For me, the meaning of life is buried deep inside you. There are an infinite amount of doors that go to your soul. Certain people have certain keys. Some have more than others. One has an infinite amount. Love is a continuum. Unfortunately, the more doors that open increase the fragility of the system. Deeper and deeper into the mine runs the risk of a catastrophic collapse. Would you risk it all for the meaning of life? Release your fears and burden your trust to the janitor of your soul?

Fate has been good to me. We’ve distorted the space-time continuum and molded it to our will. I’ve learned from my mistakes and reclaimed something I once lost. Salvation in love. A chain of events is set into motion. The assimilation of two affinities, and the concurrent phagocytic engulfment into Xtasy. Thoughts evaporate as the moment envelopes your body & soul. You descend into another realm. There’s life. There’s death. And there’s love.

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