Celestial

Falling in love is a lot like death. It chooses you. It decides the moment and the chain of events that will prelude the precise intersection of life in which occurs. It uses you - treats you as though you were malleable in its warm pliable hands. It doesn’t bother to ask if you want it, or need it, just fills the gaping hole of destiny’s design.
Love. My world blooms with its beautiful never-ending ache. I would give all of my blood to my enemies to have it completely – if I knew it would satisfy them – if I could live without it. But I know the resolution. I know the end of the end of the story before it ever begins. I must choose love. And for this, I will surely die.
It is that time in my life – a time for love and a time for death. Fate had intertwined the two, bereaved of any mercy. It is the architecture of my being, the infrastructure. The pillars of my life had been established long ago – the blueprint written in my bloodlines.