Rose Thorns & Love Letters

46 ➪ Love, Teo

•Camilla•

I burned every love letter I ever took the time to read. I set them on fire without even gracing them with a backward glance. I watched them spark up in flames and become one with the wind in their cremated form. And I did it all with a fucking smile on my face.

What has become of me?

Love is a deceitful thing, I have realised. Something that creeps into your anatomy, with no warning, like persistent poison ivy and infects you with its feigned bliss.

Love does not wait for you to process the fact that it has laid its claim on your soul. It does not wait to confirm that its affections are returned. And it certainly does not wait to be expressed.

Love waits for no one.

Love waits for no one and I find it astronomically selfish. Its selfishness is revolting. Because while love waits for no one, everyone waits for love.

Everyone waits to meet the person they trust most. Miss most. Long for most. Love the most. Everyone waits to feel the content feeling that only comes skipping hand in hand with the feeling of love.

I waited for the content feeling that only comes skipping hand in hand with the feeling of love. And while for the majority of my life it has felt more than a lightyear away, the past few months turned that all around.

Just when I thought I had found the person to sweep me off my feet and throw me into a cloud of serenity, it was all ripped away from me, served with a plate of family secrets and a glass filled of family blood.

It felt suspiciously akin to drowning.

I have lost an awful lot in the past two months and I just had to get away. I needed a getaway. I couldn't spend a day longer squatting in my friends' dorms—as lovely as they were.

I have no problem with Soul R'n'B and the lingering smell of weed until it becomes a constant thing. When the smell of fresh air became foreign to me whenever I stepped out of Melanie's room, I knew it was time for me to take my leave.

I knew I couldn't go back to Aisha's room because her and Joel had gotten back together again and that opened the possibility of either one—me waking up at three a.m. to them fucking, or two—me waking up at three a.m. to them fighting.

That was out of the question for me, so my final hope was with Harper. I knew Harper was a popular social butterfly, but I didn't know that her entertainment went beyond the soccer field.

After a week of bunking with her, I realised that Harper is happy to invite anything with a pulse to her room and give them a night to remember. I would know because I acted as the live studio audience every time.

So after all the failed attempts of staying at each of my female friends' dorms, I decided to banish my anxiety about revisiting what I had been desperately trying to put past me for an afternoon, and return to the castle-like home to finally leave.

When I told my friends about my plans, they asked exactly what was expected.

How will you cope?
I will cope just fine.
Where will you go?
My grandmother offered to house me.
Will you be okay?
I'll call you everyday so you can be the judge of that.