Ascent - Passion's Paradox - VOL.1

.20. Neferu NepTet

Love.

It's a beautiful feeling.

At least, until life spits in your face just to show you that it's not as rosy as one would like to believe. Reality catches up with you, and then you wonder if this feeling is still true, if it ever existed, or if it's even strong enough to endure your troubles when you barely encounter it.

One day, Anat told me that his father, from what little he spoke about my grandfather, considered love as a double-edged sword at whatever stage one might find oneself. Surround yourself with people who are like you, those who have the same soul and the same hidden lows as you, because otherwise... this love, in one way or another, will destroy you or the person facing you. If you're not meant to end up together, it's useless to try to push fate to listen to you, because it's transcendent and listens to no one. My parents didn't listen to it, and today, I wonder if they no longer think like that man when they look at each other in the evening.

Love is a constant trial that tests your ability to adapt and accept the worst of the other under the pretext of a feeling that you cannot discern. And if you manage to accept the darkness of that person, then you must learn that the body cannot always follow the soul or its desires. Personally, I cannot accept the way this "love" pushes me to accept the worst of the decadence Lawson demands of me towards Dorothy. Is it justified? No.

Whether intense or trivial, that's not the most important or suffocating part. Beyond knowing that we are no better than each other in our values, or that I couldn't trust him to value me more than a mere hidden mistress, it's this inability to hate him that disgusts me.

Knowing that despite my anger, it dissipates just as quickly, and I feel the urge to take him in my arms to smell that scent that is uniquely his. Him and only him make me feel this way, as good as it is bad, and I don't like it. This feeling, it's not a beautiful feeling at the present moment, and for that, I feel the need to go far away and never see him again. Is it possible to love and hate a person to this extent? To hate to love?

I only hope not to have to feel it again.

Because there are people who feel the rosy part of this feeling, I am apparently not part of that category. No.

What I was given, out of my sheer stupidity, was headaches, tears, a disgust for myself, and an almost constant emotional pain when fantasy or hatred leaves me in the evening. And beyond all that, it was this sensation of a black heart... empty. A lost heart that seems unable to find a way or any light away from this man, yet my weakness, mortal sin, when he is not my sunshine.

In the end, love is accepting to be stripped of your independence. Accepting to no longer be free of your feelings, your body, or just your freedom. A horrible warm dependency in times of peace and destructive in times of war. I experienced warm love once. Not today.

"I honestly thought this birthday party would surpass the stage of the cliché soap ball, honestly," Tiffany leans against the wall next to where the three of us are hanging out.

Tonight, we are celebrating Mergery's annual birthday in the reception hall of one of the tallest towers in Manhattan. A ball has been organized for the occasion, against which Tiffany harbors a vendetta. Since her date vomited on her dress the night of the prom, she has had a bad memory of balls. Although she still looks stunning, the smell and color drove everyone away. The funniest part is that the next day, her previous date, whom she had honored with a dance, still hoped for his ticket to her bed.

"You like it," Gabriel, who is present tonight, chuckles.

Rarely free, he found time to respond to my invitation. If I'm going to be bored, I might as well not do it alone but with the best company possible.