The Butterfly Effect (2020)

sixty-four

TW: verbal fighting, mentions of death, depressive thoughts, lotso yelling and tears :')

They say that hate is the truest destruction of love.
Personally, I beg to differ.

I think the truest destruction of love is doubt.

Hate is stab wound. Hate is fast and vicious. It swipes when you least expect it. It fills you with a boiling rage, a power within and it feels like you can command the very earth to tilt on its axis. Everything is burning and everyone is dead if you so wish it.
The person the anger is directed to - they turn into a monster before your very eyes. They deform until they're no longer a human, no longer worth being concerned over, you no longer feel anything but hate for them. It's a 1v1 battle between you two and it's life or death.
To lose is not an option. Your pride demands more, more, more. The carcass of your enemy, their blood in your teeth. A snarling wolf. A fight that has to be won.
Hate is fast and overwhelming and it teeters you on the balance beam between pure, unadulterated rage with no regards to anybody's personal safety, the warrior with no honour, the demon. And the quiet, sneering silent killer was on the other side - the backstabber, the manipulator, the one with the strategies and terrifyingly accurate plans.

Doubt, however, is softer.
Softer, but twice as effective.
It's a poison injected into your veins. It's slow and sluggish. You don't even realise it's in your system until it's too late and it's closing up your throat and paralysing your body. Doubt is not merciful. Doubt is painful. It's harsh and biting but dull and aching. It makes you rethink things time and time again and suddenly your life has been turned upside down, every polaroid scoured through to find a single truth that you can be sure of.
Doubt is messy but contained. It swells within you like the poison that swells your windpipe. And then you're suffocating and your lungs are begging for air, you're begging for a break, begging for mercy. But none is given.
It's a slow build up of distrust. A sluggish engorge of suspicion. And it becomes all you know, all you're aware of.
The person deforms into a danger.
A danger is far worse than a monster you hold no regard for.

Hate had what doubt lacked; passion.
Passion is energy - it can be transformed. Hate can be changed from screaming matches and furious tears to being pinned against the wall, kissing your monster as if your very life depended on it, and soft words. It's problematic, of course, but it still gives you the opportunity to step back, take a breather and see your monster in a new light - maybe they aren't so bad. Maybe the thing you're fighting over isn't such a big deal. Maybe you can work things out.
Doubt gives no such chances. It's all encompassing, a squeezing vice grip with no intention of slacking. It's a blinker on either side of your vision - you only are allowed one opinion. The opinion that you could never trust your danger again.

If anger is a wolf, then doubt is a poison dart frog. Unsuspecting, tiny, small and non-aggressive. Pretty, even. But deadly in such a more potent way than a wolf.

My friends made me doubt Lloyd, and now I was sliding down a slippery slope, hands reaching out desperately to stop my descent. Except there's nothing to grip onto. I'm just falling faster and faster and faster. There is no hope for me. I'll hit the poison dart frog and I will be the next person to die of doubt.
I stared at the ceiling with dry eyes while my brain ran laps. Maybe I should've gone to school. At least it would keep my mind off of the crisis that had encompassed me whole, suffocated me, left me here to rot and die.

I was lost.

Floating in an endless, dark pool of insecurities and confusion. This truly was a mess.
And my friends hurt, but I think. I think Lloyd hurt worse. The doubt that crept up my spine had latched onto me like a leech, sucking out every possible ounce of serotonin, every slither of dopamine. It left my brain with nothing but bittersweet memories and the feeling of aching loneliness. I wanted Lloyd back with me, I wanted him to drive back home from school, wanted him to hold me and reassure my fears, quell my anxiety.
I just wanted him to tell me that everything's going to be okay.