They call her crazy

They call her crazy

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing20m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Aug 14, 2016
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Fiction
Social Themes
"You can have it all in life. Money, a house, a family, anything you can possibly imagine. But it can still not be enough. A materialistic life style will not buy your brain to believe that you can support yourself alive. If someone gave you roses you'd want tulips. Searching for that one thing to make you happy. That one thing that never came" Without realising, a tear dropped down her cheek as she inhaled another puff of the toxic smoke.
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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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