A peculiar thing, isn't it? Intentions. They say the road to hell was paved with good ones. If that were the case, I had brought hell to Earth. The world was never meant to gravitate away from my ideals of black or white. I should have never been introduced to the catastrophic grey.
Sorrow and hardship is fermented in South African soil. Apartheid lingers like a grungy stain in the air. It was for my country, that I loved so dearly, that I sauntered toward mechatronics. A new world in the making, the world chimed, a world re-imagined. Proceeding my love for robotics, I knew a simple truth- the man who imagined the wheel never anticipated the pollution of cars. He could not foreshadow these problems because he created them.
My dynamic twenties ignited my profound need to pursue an exhilarating future world. It was in these years that I met Mark, a golden mind compressed by knowledge only obtained by books. He was like heavenly fire, enticing me closer. I knew I would get burnt.
Be as it may, he evoked a passion within me that burned with equal magnitude. It was euphoric!
A greater love was unfathomable, I knew when I stared into his mysteriously magnetic, ocean eyes.
Together, we had a brain-child. She was filled with blemishes but enkindled a love within me that I did not know I was capable of. She was going to be our salvation... but she was destruction.
Mark and I never intended to kick the hornet's nest. In our quest to rid the world of sickness, a new cancer tore the skin of our species and infected our blood. A war against the infected broke loose. It was to this cancer that I lost my love, and my fire. He drowned in the tsunami our earthquake had created.
I tore the fear from my bones, but he never saw because I broke every inch of my love. My heart yearns to re-write the stars for all the lost loves. The pain of others will eternally be additional burdens on my tattered soul. Intentions will always be my fatal flaw and favourite daydream. They drift through my mind in the most mundane tasks. Even now, in my old age, they allow me to catch a glimpse of the woman I used to be.
They say that time heals all wounds, but that has not been my experience. The abyss I had fallen into is a labyrinth I cannot escape. For I was scared to be Icarus and fly to close to the sun. Never did I imagine that I would become Odysseus- swallowed by the storm.
