Love Struck

"Come hither", the temptress whispers in his ear.

Tiny hair follicles on end. riveting. 

Exploding synapses as the sound pouring from her tainted lips, sings the tune of his soul.

"I don't want this. Be gone seductress! Be GONE!" He howls across the universe, speaking to Fate and Destiny and all who hold his course.

Breathless he keels over, hands to knees, knees trembling, knees to ground, hands sweating. 

"Why is life so unfair?" 

The ultimate question. His thoughts are a blur, a ludicrous fusion of all that was right, and everything that was wrong. A compass pointing every which way, but no place in particular. Morals, vices, virtue, infused into a beautiful chaotic accord - an accord that was too vigorous and too feeble simultaneously.

Of the pain he has endured, of the love he has felt, or the sensations that he's lived for, nothing compares to the agony of this kind of passionate affair. An affair that unhinged every screw that had been perfectly placed. The wall that was built, the emotion that was hidden in the deep crevices of the soul, were ripped apart and left bare for the temptress. She devoured his heart, as he did hers. They feasted on one another as kings and queens feast on special occasions. 

The odyssey they pursued was exquisite. They traveled places near and far, crossed oceans, indulged in Life's beauty and chaos, flew high above the clouds and soared as eagles soar. Gravity, though, or Fate and Destiny, or even the Universe herself could not keep them flying through the pink and orange hued sphere. The sun set, and the clouds tumbled in, along with the thunder, and lightening struck them down to earth, down further, to a heated pit. 

The love struck wanderers found themselves in a heat of fury. Blame was thrown, hearts were broken and fires were blazing. But even through all the pain and suffering, there was a love like no other. A passion that incinerated almost everything in it's path. A sensation, not of this extraordinary world. But alas, love was not enough. 

Love cannot be enough in the depths of a personal Hell.

Life was unbalanced. Actions were impulsive, emotional, without conscious thought. 

Passion turned to aggression, awe turned to spite. Love was love was hatred was hurt was agony was beauty was passion was pain. 

Love did not survive the fury of the passionate heart. Yet it still lingers as they move forward in their lives. Hope is ever present, however small it may be.

Sometimes hope is all you need to move on. Sometimes creating a new life, a new love and new passion with whats right in front of you is the best way forward. 

Love the small things, love the crazy things, love the adventure, the pain, the passion and all that comes with it, but love outside your personal Hell. Or love after you learn to love yourself. Because that is what this comes down to folks. You can love someone with every single, minute fiber of your extraordinary being, but if you do not love yourself, love will not be enough. It will never enough. 

The sad, truth can set you free. 

Free yourself from self-hatred and learn to love and live with yourself. Once you do that, you'll be amazed at what you can accomplish. 

star-crossed lovers. by FrancesHolly

dear Depression,

i write to you. do not judge me for my lack of grammar, i am not a book.
i do, however have something important to say if you'll lend me your ear for a brief second.

it is truly sad how we undermine you Depression. your name is thrown around so lightly and playfully at times even by me. i cannot fathom the destruction you have caused, the storm you have released upon so many lives. you are darkness with no light, no bright side. you devour us like a hungry wolf and still come back for more.

try explaining to loved one's the feelings pulsing through you during an attack by the ol' mighty YOU. there is no fucking explanation and yet we're regularly asked, "are you okay?" to which we respond, "no" though unable to explain why we are not okay. or we respond "yes" simply. easily. yet the turmoil buried deep within is rising to the surface. that black hole we run from is slowly catching up and all we can do is stop, turn around and let it consume us because we know there is no where to hide.

getting out of bed to face the day is burdensome. with a rueful demeanor we drag our feet to the shower so as to not smell of yesterday's defeat. repulsed by friends and family we avoid contact by any means and then wonder why no one's calling to ask how we're doing. do they not care? alone we meander through the motions of the day wishing it would end so that sleep would consume us and reality would dissipate for a few short hours. only to wake up to a light that burns to the core. and so we crawl back under the blanket and cry.

why, Depression, why? it is a simple question. how do you finger us out and play at our strings. you, the great puppet master. why do you insist on humiliating us? we hide our mirrors because our reflections reveal an ugly portrait of you. we avoid feelings because you've made it impossible to feel anything but horrible. ugly. disgusting. worthless. hopeless. tomorrow is not another day when you are present. tomorrow is another door to hell with our name's printed ever so lonesomely on it. lonely. alone. isolated. forsaken. solitary. the only friend we possess during your massacre.

but boy do i have news for you Depression. your lifespan is limited. although you do not see it you provide an awareness, a sense of expanded consciousness. you provide a realization of truth. because no matter how hard you try to gain friends during your massacre, you will always be alone. you either kill or give life. the former and latter leave you without, leave you wanting. there will come a day where we see a flicker of light, of hope. where we'll take hold of a loving hand and be encompassed by a warm embrace. our cold blood will run hot, igniting a passion within us. igniting a fire that was smothered by your poisonous affection.

ah, there will be a day. just you wait and see. you are alone old friend. you are alone. and we, we are awakened by your touch. though scars remain, memories etched, we have tasted hell but we now walk through the cancerous fire with a thirst for a life. we do have something to say. we do have lives to touch and children to birth. passion to be felt, loves to be had. without doubt we know we'll cross paths with you again, and though we may not be prepared for it, there'll be that flicker.

and that flicker is all we need.

sincerely,
anonymous.