Love In A Hopeless Place

Love In A Hopeless Place

  • WpView
    LECTURES 92
  • WpVote
    Votes 4
  • WpPart
    Chapitres 2
WpMetadataReadEn cours d'écriture5m
WpMetadataNoticeDernière publication lun., sept. 23, 2013
Have you ever wondered what its like, having the barrel of a gun pressed into your temple? No? Well I had. Multiple times, always in some fantasy of mine where I'd be the damsel in distress, then my Batman (played by Christian Bale, of course..) would show up and save me, very heroically. It was all very romantic in my head. But when the actual thing happened, it wasn't very romantic at all. And Batman, well, he wasn't played by Christian Bale. It was the most terrifying experience of my life. But it was all worth it. Because I got my happily ever after with someone who played the role of Batman much better than Christian Bale did. I guess you could say, I found love in a hopeless place.
Tous Droits Réservés
Rejoignez la plus grande communauté de conteursObtiens des recommandations personnalisées d'histoires, enregistre tes préférées dans ta bibliothèque, commente et vote pour développer ta communauté.
Illustration

Vous aimerez aussi

  • Echo of the Past
  • Reject (mxm)
  • Safe
  • The Devil Is My Guardian
  • The White Knight // Batman
  • Jesse's Redemption (manxman /werewolf || #lgbt)
  • The Dark Knight Rises (Robin FF)
  • Mated
  • Maybe Us. (Vance Hopper x FEM! Reader)

A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.

Plus d’Infos
WpActionLinkDirectives de Contenu