The Translator
- Reads 477
- Votes 133
- Parts 13
Ongoing40m
Last published Sat, May 31, 2025
" Promise me you'll live, honey. Live, and make this count! "
" Anna! I'd burn every heaven and walk through every hell just to find you again. So don't you dare die on me. "
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I made a promise, a commitment, a vow, and an oath that I'd never fall into the brutality they call love ever again, as it is something not to be toyed with. Think of it this way: Love is like a scented candle. The candle stick and the waxed aroma make the candle itself. Then it's ignited by a great inferno, and together, they make a beautiful thing. It burns for a long time, but then it loses that flame, that spark that ignited the creature. I guess the two most important ingredients gave up on each other. "Love" can be a metaphor, a simile, but most of all, a promise. A promise that can't be kept, something that waits until infinity to be broken. At least that's what I, Roseabella Swayed, once believed.
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