Stitches

Fourth Stitch

Fourth Stitch

Love? Love is easy—it's like a walk in the park.

Except the park is on fire.

And the ground is on fire. And the grass is on fire. And freakin' everything else is on fire. And the sky is black with smoke and you're weak-kneed and you can't breathe.

But you keep going anyway, you keep riding that bike. Because outside that park, it's cold. And you think the fire keeps you warm.

I wrote that for Valentines, back in seventh grade. The Student Council had set up booths by the school gate. They kept asking students passing by, "What is love?" and made them write their answers on multi-colored sticky notes.

All those notes were posted on the "Freedom Wall" as they called it. It took up an entire side of a school building. It was bright, it was huge, it was colorful. It looked like a unicorn puked all over it.

It was cute, I guess. If you walk closer and actually read the stuff written there, the notes on the Freedom Wall can be categorized into three: the Lovestruck, the Bitter, and the One's Who Don't Give a Fuck.

Lovestruck notes were the pathetic ones. Mushy sappy and fluffy, you name it. Example, "Love is [insert name here], you and me forever, babe. Ily." Some even wrote poetry. (Ick.)

The Bitter ones were a different kind of pathetic. Probably written by the heartbroken, the exes, the ones with a crappy love life. Mainly, they bash everything that the Lovestruck contain.

Then the One's Who Don't Give a Fuck were, well, the ones that don't give a fuck. They were mostly trolling, like "In the span of time it took you to read this, you have wasted 30 seconds of your life. Happy Valentines, dumbass."

They were funny, and I liked them. When I was given my sticky note, I was supposed to write it in that third category.

But then it got me thinking, all these notes, all these versions and point of views on love, why was it all such a big deal? Why did the topic of love make everyone speak up? I mean yeah, you could be Lovestruck, or Bitter, or Not Give a Fuck, but still. Everyone always had something to say about love.

I wonder why.

So then I started writing. It was a mix of all three categories, actually, because I didn't want to be racist. (Or an ideology discriminator, whatever.)

And that was what my brain had burped out.

Little did I know, said giant sticky-note wall was a contest. They chose the best message, and read it out loud on giant speakers. They had chosen mine. "Written by Simon Denman," they announced for the entire school body to hear. "Let's give him a round of applause."

I did not know whether I should have felt humiliated or not.

I guess it should've felt like an honor, if you were into that. If you were into the limelight and your name being called on stage. I wasn't though, and it just felt weird.

Well, at least the prize money was something. It wasn't much, just enough to treat your bestfriends for a pizza party or something.

After that, everyone kept asking me if I was in love.

"Can't write that well if you haven't experienced it," they would tease. They would ask who that note was for. What was her name? Was she pretty? Do I plan on making any moves?

It was annoying.

I wasn't in love, actually. Back then, anyways. I only wrote that because I was inspired by the people who were.

But that was before. Before Perci and her pretty eyes and her hesitant endearing smile.

If someone were to ask me again, "What is love?" my answer wouldn't change. What I wrote before, I understand it more now though. It has new meaning to me.

Right now, I am in that park.

I can feel it burn.

* * *

Author's Note: Split POVs here, if you still haven't noticed. Will now be updating twice a week, due to an extreme lack of inspiration.