Too Bright For Me

Once upon a time, there was Love. And soulmates.

No, literally. Love. Her name is Love. And soulmates exist.

For some unknown reason, during a person's 16th birthday, at exactly midnight, a mark appears on a random part of said person's body; a soul mark. It is said to help them find, and connect with their soulmate. Some people do not get soul marks, some get platonic soulmates- which is when their soul mark is white.

Love, as ironic as it would get, does not want a soulmate.

The idea of having the perfect match for her is far-fetched and unrealistic. How could someone not see a single flaw in another person? Just completely accept them for who they are? And the idea of not having control over whoever she might fall in love with? Just letting the universe decide? No, thank you. Love doesn't like the feeling of not having a choice. It's suffocating.

It's all ridiculous, the concept of soulmates is ridiculous, for her at least. If not for the literal marks tainted around everyone's bodies, she wouldn't believe it exists.

That's why Love firmly believed that on her 16th birthday, she wouldn't get a mark, or it would be white at most.

But when midnight came, it was as if the whole world is messing with her, a gentle blow of the wind and on her pinkie appears a golden mark.

It's a sentence. A first-word mark, she thought. It is said that a first-word mark says what your soulmate would first say to you.

I think I'm lost in your eyes.

Of course, it would be about her eyes. Love's not even surprised. With an eye color like hers, a mark like this is too predictable for it not to happen.

She then suddenly felt her chest contracting, anxiousness washing over her rationality, a million thoughts whirling through her head.

But why do I have this?

I don't want this-

Why is it not white?

I have a soulmate?

If I mutilate my finger, what will happen? I don't need my right hand anyway, I'm left-handed!

Her eyes roamed around her dimly lit room, her gaze finally stopping at the mounted analog clock in her room. She winced. Great, it's 4 AM. On a school day at that. She felt like puking.

Love took a deep breath, calming herself, trying to remember the breathing exercises her mom taught her. She counted to ten before wandering her eyes around her room again, looking for the glass of water she always brings to her room in case she got thirsty.

Love sat up and took a big gulp. She glanced down at her right hand, a nervous breath coming out of her mouth. It's still here.

What, did she expect that it would just disappear? That it'll all be just a dream, or just a very bad joke?

Love grimaced.

She closed her eyes for a few moments, breathing heavily. Absorbing all of it.

It's overwhelming, she's not going to lie. The mark felt mocking. Different emotions piling up: disappointment, exasperation, anxiousness, frustration. She breathed through her nose steadily.

After a few minutes, Love's eyes fluttered open.

Maybe it's not that bad. Maybe she's just overreacting. Right?

Then her thoughts wander. What would they be like? Will they not like her? Reject her? Love her? Will she like them?

She felt feverish. She reached for her glass of water, downing all of it. After placing it back on her bedside table, she plopped down her bed.