Twist Of Fate

There are two kinds of suffering.

Intense, unexpected suffering, and the suffering that we think we can handle.

Intense, unexpected suffering passes more quickly than suffering that is apparently bearable; the latter goes on for years, and without our knowing, it perches in us for as if it's eating away at our souls, until, one day, we are no longer able to free ourselves from the bitterness, and it stays with us for the rest of our lives.

And that's what love is.

Love is bearable suffering.

I thought I hated him, and perhaps I did. I hated the way he directly assumed that I would melt to a puddle at his feet, just like every other girl does, because he's beautiful.

He is beautiful.

But beautiful things are deadly, and hate is easier.

Sometimes, best-laid plans don't go as well as we think they would, and my plans to save myself from suffering were turned upside down.

It is ironic, the way every speck of hate I held for him was swapped with a feeling I was quite familiar with: suffering.

And when love and hate collide, there's a huge twist of fate.

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