IMAAN'S FIGHT & OTHER STORIES

ILLUSIONS OF LOVE

Clyde.

Love... they say it's a beautiful feeling. Some describe it as a chemical reaction or pure magic. The most common belief is that it's an emotional phenomenon that no one truly understands. No one can explain why our pupils dilate when we see the person we love, or why we feel warmth inside when we hear them call our name. Even a simple text from them can make us feel like we're flying on cloud nine. Love makes us feel like kings and queens, the embodiment of happiness. Once we experience love, our world becomes centered around that one person. Our thoughts become consumed by them, leaving no room for rationality. It creates a world we never want to leave, a beautiful illusion.

But to me, love is just that - an illusion. It never truly exists, and there is no lasting happiness in this world. There is no special someone who will stay by your side forever. It's just our minds creating images of a perfect world, perhaps as a coping mechanism for the dark loneliness that eats away at us from within. It's a way to escape the sadness that clenches our hearts. Books and movies often portray love as something magical, with happily ever afters and staying together until the end. But in reality, there are no happy endings.

People come and go, always leaving for something else. An adventure calls, an emergency arises, or religion beckons. They heed the call, leaving us behind. They fail to keep the promises they made, the promises we both made. We were supposed to be together until the end, ride or die. But at the end of the day, we are always the second option, or worse, never an option at all. Like everyone else, they leave.

Solitude comes running back to me, wrapping its icy hands around me in a warm embrace. "I will never leave you," Solitude sternly promises. I hate empty promises, but solitude's promises are filled to the brim, overflowing. I hate it, yet at the same time, I love it because at least it's not a lie.

My train of thought comes to a halt when I notice something horribly wrong with the painting I've been working on. A bit of green has smudged onto the beige, completely ruining the entire piece. It's just a tiny spot of green, hardly noticeable to someone inexperienced in paintings. It shouldn't bother me; after all, I'm a messy person who hardly cleans up after myself. I'm as lazy as a sloth, so that little spot of green shouldn't be a problem. So why am I crying?

Tears well up in my eyes as I stare hopelessly at the ruined painting, trying to think of a way to fix it. I've been working on this piece for months, close to a year. I decide to try and dab the green away without making another mess. I pick up a piece of cloth from the floor and hold it above the green spot, just inches away. But my hands, which have always been shaky for unknown reasons (and no, it's not because of alcohol), are trembling worse than ever. I'm getting nervous to wipe away the green paint, knowing that the longer I hesitate, the more it will dry and become a permanent blemish.

One... Two... Three... I make a simple dab, and frustration escapes my lips. "Fuck!" I curse out loud, waking up my lazy fat cat, Ramen, who was sound asleep on the window seat. "Meow," he complains, glaring at me with lazy eyes before going back to sleep. "Fuck," I hiss much quieter, afraid to wake him up again. More tears flood my eyes as I feel my throat tighten and my heart ache.

"Fuck this!" I mutter, unable to hold it in any longer.

I let out pathetic sobs as I bring my knees close to my chest and hug them, my eyes glued to the now ruined painting. I was just supposed to dab away the green, but my hands slipped, leaving a small streak of green paint. It's all messed up.

Ramen gets up from where he was sleeping, stretches, and stares at me while licking his paw. I wish he would come to me and offer some sort of emotional support, rubbing himself against me. But instead, he just walks past me, completely ignoring my sorry existence, and goes straight to the door.

He struggles a bit to get through the cat door, and just like that, he's gone. Like everyone else, my cat has left me. Perhaps if Ramen were a dog, he would stay, right? Dogs are more loyal than cats, aren't they? I burst into fresh tears again, this time falling to the floor in the fetal position and crying. I don't care if I'm lying on the palette, getting green and purple paint in my hair. I don't care if I'm acting dramatic over a little streak on a painting. I just want to cry and let it all out.

Ever since she said she was leaving and needed a break, I haven't felt anything but constant numbness. As always, I dragged myself to work until I couldn't do it anymore, and then I decided to lock myself up in my room. Time and again, I find myself staring at my phone, going through our old texts. They started out full of happiness and stupidity, with us exchanging a hundred texts a day. But they gradually became slower, with fewer words and more arguments. We stopped hanging out because I got busy at work, and I blamed it on my nasty boss. The fights kept coming, but what hurt the most were the broken promises and shattered dreams for the future.

She used to sit and listen as I told her about the vastness of space, making crazy hand signs to emphasize its size. "It's infinity," I insisted. "That's how big my love for you is." Fuck! Another wave of tears and sobs hits me.

"Tell me about your dreams. Where do you see yourself in a few years?" she would ask.

I didn't put much thought into it and just told her my dream.

"I want a house on a hill somewhere, away from everyone. There's a lake or an ocean below, maybe the house is on a cliff. I see myself with dogs, maybe three of them. Just tranquility."

I remember her gasping at that, her pretty eyes filled with excitement as she told me that she had always wanted that house on a hill. We fucking promised each other that we would get that house and those dogs. Just the five of us, and maybe, if she wanted, kids in our little family.

God, I hate kids. But it gave my pessimistic self something to look forward to. The truth is, pessimism is a haunting disease.

Every night, as we lay in bed together, I made her promise that she would stay. I wanted her to assure me that we would make it, that we would get the house on the hill. We would be together to the moon and back. And every night, she promised she would stay. I believed her, I was assured, and I slept with a smile on my face.

But not long after she said she needed to go, that we needed to live our lives, I insisted on going with her, reminding her of the promises we made. The house on the hill. She said that if I loved her, I would let her go. Which brings me back to the question: What is the real definition of love? What is love? Isn't love just two broken hearts coming together to create a perfect piece?

"Please let me go," she pleaded. And so I did, still holding onto the uncertain promise that she would come back. Months have passed, and still, there is no sign of her. I am rapidly losing what little sanity I have left, delving into painting our little house on the hill. I tell myself that when she comes back, I'll give her the painting before showing her the house I got for us. But fuck! I can't even paint it right. Now it's ruined.

I think I blacked out from crying too much because when I come to, I feel stiff all over and dried tears in my eyes.

I believe I may have lost consciousness due to my excessive crying. I had a dreadful headache. Despite my disheveled appearance, I made my way to the kitchen where Ramen, my ungrateful cat, was lounging on the counter. Giving him a pat on the head, I poured him some milk before retreating to my room.

As my headache persisted, I decided to take a risky amount of tylenol, despite the unpleasant taste. Lying on my bed, I gazed up at the ceiling, reminiscing about my dear one and realizing how beautiful she always was, even though she refused to accept it.

I found myself becoming increasingly tired, and as I drifted off to sleep, memories of my emotions and experiences flooded my mind. Suddenly, I saw her walking away from me in a blinding light, and my attempts to chase after her were in vain. My heart beat faster and faster, until it slowed and I was plunged into darkness.