I can't thank you enough for taking me to my concert while my car is being fixed. I mean, it would be awfully silly for me to take my giant airship to my little orchestra venue.
I received the message you sent me before you picked me up. I see that you're seeking wisdom in the area of love. How I define love? The definition is not subjective, you must understand. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, is it not self-centered, it is not easily angered, it doesn't hold things against people.
You know? This reminds me of a time, when I was about fifteen, and you know, I'm seventeen now, it was a time of a lot of confusion for me.
At least for me, I've always been sort of unusual as a young koopa, but in a good way. Everyone has their quirks and interests, and I had quite a few, myself. Just like any other person. Not many of my quirks ever really concerned me for my well-being and sanity, but this one in particular, did.
I wasn't very educated when it comes to the area of romance in general. I'm still really not, actually. I am certainly more educated now, then I was at this time. I knew at this time that at some point, people would love each other, get married, have children, and they would live happily ever after, I suppose. That was my definition of love at the time, because, gee, I didn't know.
Then, my younger siblings, as I told you, I'm the eldest of 8, at least the ones closest in age to me, would be talking about this "love," and I didn't understand why. They would be talking about people they would have "crushes" on, and people they wanted to "date." They would also watch a lot of fairytale romance movies and television shows, which neither interested me.
There was one time in particular, I was helping watch my, at the time, 10-year old (and only) sister, Wendy. She had requested I put on a movie for her, and of course, I let her pick a movie, and we ended up watching it. The title of the movie in question I don't remember, but I can tell you, it was one of those cheesy high school fairytale romance type movies.
After two hours of pure agony, Wendy popped up from the couch and let out a big sigh, "Ah, wasn't it such a good movie, Luddy?"
I, too, let out a big sigh, but it was a sigh of relief that it was finally over.
Naturally, I replied, "I'm glad you liked it."
Obviously, I wasn't going to tell my little sister that I hated the movie, and I also wasn't going to flat-out lie to her and tell her it was good.
"Anyone who hasn't felt true love like that, they just need some serious help. Ah, so romantic!" Wendy twirled around the room and then skipped to the kitchen to get a snack.
I knew inside that Wendy did not direct that statement toward me, but I unfortunately, took it quite personally. I began questioning myself.
"Is there something wrong with me?" "Do I need serious help?" "Gosh, am I emotionally stunted?"
These were a few of the many thoughts that circled my head for the rest of that evening that I just could not shake.
I could barely keep my composure that evening and as soon as the opportunity gave, I went straight to bed. I just had to get by myself. That was a bad idea. I learned that then and there.
I ended up coming to the foolish conclusion, "I need to fall in love so I'm not strange and need to get help."
I lied down on my bed after readying myself for sleeping, and began thinking of the women I knew to maybe somehow "fall in love" with one of them in hopes to cure this terrible disease. Why was I not falling in love like my younger siblings were doing?
I became so overwhelmed by this toxic concept that I began to cry. I vividly remember crying so much that I developed a throbbing headache, and waves of nausea. My eyes were burning from the tears that kept pouring down. I was so discombobulated that it felt like the room was spinning. I remember my bedsheets being soaking wet as I could barely take another breath because of my uncontrollable sobbing.
I thought to myself, "This is it. This is what being lovesick feels like."
I was sick of love, I was sick of what I was being told, and if this is what it took to get it, I was not interested.
Then, my door swung open. I quickly grabbed a nearby book and hid in it, pretending I was reading the book, just to get some late-night reading before I was off to bed.
"Ludwig?" the voice asked.
I knew exactly who it was as soon as it spoke. It was my brother, Iggy.
"What are you doing? I heard something coming from your room," he continued, taking steps toward me.
I couldn't control my sobbing, so he already knew I was crying. There was no doubt about that.
"Just some late-night reading. You happened to catch me on a tragic ending," I whispered, so my voice wouldn't tremble.
"No. You're reading a Shakespeare comedy. It's Much Ado About Nothing," Iggy tipped the edge of my book down, revealing my face.
It then occurred to me that the book I picked up was in English, and that I could barely read it anyway, making this whole situation less believable. I read much more proficiently in German than English, let alone Shakespearian English.
"Seriously, Lud. What's the matter?"
"I think there is something horribly wrong with me," I gently placed the book down on my bed.
Iggy sat down next to me on my bed and wrapped his arms around me.
"No way! Who's talking? I want to fight them right here, right now," Iggy growled, scanning the room.
We did laugh a little at that remark. After that, I let out all my concerns to him, since he and I are confidants for each other, and I could trust him.
"Oh, Ludwig," Iggy paused after the emotional spillage.
I felt my heart plummet to the bottom of my chest. I remember being so terrified of what Iggy was to say next.
"I, uh, well... I think you might need some help. This is really weird."
I nearly fainted. It couldn't be.
"I'm gonna talk to dad about this, too. I think this needs to be talked about."
I wailed, "No!-"
As soon as Iggy left my bedroom, I flung open my window panes, bringing in the cool night breeze. I hopped out of my window, into my clown car, and up to my castle to hide.
So, not only did Iggy say my situation was weird, he violated our promise, which was that we kept everything between us unless we both agreed on telling.
I stayed there for the remainder of the night, absolutely panicked about what was coming next-
What's that? It is showtime. I must depart to perform my concert now. In the interim, please, enjoy the show. I will return afterward to finish this conversation with you.
YOU ARE READING
Lovesick
Short StoryAfter being asked about love, Ludwig von Koopa shares his answer to the question through the telling of a story.