Love for me is very much like the embodiment of post-traumatic stress disorder.
Falling in love captures the very core of your brain. It holds you where you are, by your central control system, and wires it into a shock. The shock falls into two phases.
In the first phase, you fall into a deep sleep where you are narcotized. You swim in your ocean of feelings. These feelings, they’re your ideas of love you’ve collected throughout your lifetime. It’s infinite. Like infinity, your thoughts are irrational and unbreakable. You can never break infinity.
Love suffocated me. I’d call him love, but I blame my thoughts more than anything else. It was me who wanted to forget the world. My soul lit fire and danced when I thought of him. Memory receptors on my skin have lived and died, but they learnt their history by heart. It was constant war between me and them; between wanting to forget the past and wanting to repeat it.
The second phase is when you realize the higher you go, the more painful the fall. You lose sleep for all the wrong reasons. You have abrupt shocks. You’d be in the middle of day-to-day ordinary tasks, then the memory hits you, and you feel the world quake down to your bone. You start to sweat, tremble, and if it’s bad, you might even shiver for a while. I’d be wrapped in seven blankets, and still feel the cold. The love, which you designed “infinite,” makes you want to die.
Love – true love – will hack into your system and take away rational thought. But, once it breaks you, you develop stoicism. I forgot what it was like to look at somebody, and wish they were as beautifully infinite as my thoughts. The good thing about it is that once it’s over, you realize that half the things you thought were painful aren’t as painful as you thought they were.
I’ve experienced the same ache twice. Leaving him was a lot like leaving Australia.
I lost myself along the way.
When I Crossed The Indian Ocean; Mona Issa.