The first time I met you I felt as though my planets aligned; my eyes shifted and laid its ancient sight on you and it felt right. The subsequent days were as though acting out the scenes from The Little Mermaid — the girl had finally met the prince of her dreams, but that prince was unattainable. You assured me I had you locked in the embrace of my palms, but I wasn’t so sure. The feeling wasn’t real; it was surreal. The days went by and truthfully, my vision was a bit clouded. Submerged in the calming breeze of a newborn love, neither the intervention of the world nor the filters of those around us bothered me because you always felt too much like poetry. I thought then, “If love is this, then love is easy.”
No it wasn’t.
To attain the prince, the little mermaid had to lose her voice, give up her underwater kingdom and the life she never thought to set foot out of. Perhaps the sea king should have thought to warn her against falling for handsome, young men; told her lovers from two different worlds were destined to end in tragedy.
Oh no, “tragedy” doesn’t encompass what could only be described as the fall of a great empire to come. No, it barely made the cut. People watched us fall like how they watch fireworks on the Fourth of July before going back to their unamusing days. Someone should have warned me to give a little less altruistically and guard my cotton candy heart.
Love is never easy, but the fiction of my mind is.
It recently dawned on me that what I am doing is undeniably heading towards disaster. It made me stop in my tracks and then ask myself, ” What the hell am I doing? “
If you can predict the end is a dead end, will you still do it?
” Here’s the thing about mistakes. Sometimes, even when you know something’s a mistake, you gotta make it anyway. ” – How I Met Your Mother