You sit next to Ego and you watch your Emotions dance with each other.
Ego looks at you and chuckles, "Something wrong?"
You frown a little, confused. "I don't understand. Love and Hate are dancing together and so are Joy and Sadness. Shouldn't they be... I don't know...On the opposite sides of the room glaring at each other? Not acting like best friends or lovers?"
Ego chuckles again and strokes your hand. "Still so naïve." He murmurs lovingly.
"Take a good look at them. Love and Hate, for example. Are their appearances not similar? Is their attire not complimentary to each other?" He looks at you expectantly.
You glare at him and think to yourself, "Egotistical bastard." Then you realize what you thought and chuckle.
He raises one eyebrow as if to say, "I'm waiting."
You sigh. It's never easy dealing with your own Ego. You look at Love and Hate and watch them dance.
Slowly, you realize as you watch Hate spin Love around the dance floor. Their every movement complements and enhances the other.
The dance ends.
They hold each other close for a moment. When Hate takes Love's hand and leads her to a table, you realize.
Softly, almost a whisper, "They need each other."
You look at Ego wonderingly and he smiles triumphantly.
You watch Hate pull the chair out and seat Love. Then you watch Hate walk to the side bar and bring her back a drink.
You look back at them, now sitting close together at the table and you shake your head. Surprised.
You laugh softly. "Without Hate, Love can't flourish. Without Love, Hate is useless."
Ego strokes your hand softly, almost absently.
"All of them are like that. Without Sadness, there is no Joy. Without Contentment, there is no Hunger."
You nod your head thoughtfully.
Ego continues. "There are no good emotions or bad emotions. Each and every one of them is equally important. Each and every one of them in excess can harm the others. Each and every one of them if ignored..."
Ego pauses, places a hand over his heart and continues in almost a whisper. "Will hurt us."
He waves his hand encompassing all the dancing couples.
You raise a hand, waving at him, stopping him.
In a dry voice, "Enough with the lecture. I get the point."
YOU ARE READING
Pandora's Box
FantasíaInside the mind is a house. Inside the house is a door. Through the door is a room. In the room are figures. Like a child's kaleidoscope, they twist and turn about each other. Cloaked and hooded, their identities are a mystery. Until one brushes a...
