Love is...

Love is...

By: Four/WisdomDeath

Love is a ruthless game.

It’s like the Hunger Games. We get picked by fate, we’re placed in the arena with strangers or maybe some familiar people, and may the best, strongest win. If you aren’t strong or brave enough, you die.

Love is poison.

It’s like filling a syringe with whatever deadly toxin you can find, sticking that needle through your skin, then pressing that liquid to your veins. It slowly blends with your blood, spreads to your entire body—it could make you feel dizzy or even as if you’re going crazy—and lastly, it kills you. Or maybe just permanently damage you.

Love is a scalpel.

It cuts through your skin and exposes your flesh, your organs. It’s not enough that you’re cut open and that your insides are exposed. Slowly, your feelings start to seep out of every cut like blood.

Love is a disease.

You need to get yourself checked by the love doctor. You’re lucky if you’re still in Stage 1 of that deadly disease. If caught early, treatments could be less harsh. If caught late, treatments will be harsh. You could get operated and get well. You could even die during the operation. There’s also a possibility that you don’t survive the first few minutes after the “successful” operation.

Love is magic.

It’s like taking a shower in fairy dust. It makes us feel as if we’re floating—floating on a cloud of infinite possibilities. We feel as if we’re one of those people in fairytales. We finally feel as if living is like counting 1, 2, 3. The pain and bitterness fades and reality seems to be colorful and sweet. Everything in life turns magical. The air seems to sparkle with magic glitters. The birds seem to sing our favorite songs. The cheesy love songs we used to hate magically made sense. And then we find ourselves smiling, happy to live in the world where magic exists.

Love is a time machine.

Past. Our minds reel back to the moment were it all began. Sometimes, we even go back to the time before we knew that we were capable of loving and being loved. We sometimes rewind everything in our minds, without noticing how far we’ve rewinded to.

Present. We enjoy it as long as it’s still there. We cherish every moment, afraid to lose what we have. We keep on moving forward but there are times when we want to stop, pause it, and live the same moment over and over again.

Future. We spend an awful lot of time thinking of the future. Will it still be wonderful? Or does the future hold a dark moment—dark moments? Will it make us excited? Or will it just make us go back to the past and relive the happy moments?

“Love is a lot of things.”