“I’m not the only one. Look at yourself. You, too, are not thinking straight by not letting me go.”
I used to belittle those words. After all, no one in their right mind would let someone who makes them happy and over the moon go. Some people even spend their whole lives searching for happiness. Everyone wants to be happy. Happiness is a right. If I wasn’t thinking straight, then no one is.
But ever since my heart shattered, I began to waver; I lost my footing. Her words clung on me like a leech; And my head keep repeating those words like mantra. Maybe she was right; Maybe happiness is just a word – a non-existing myth created by mankind to hide the true bitterness of life.
I ran away, rejecting reality. I stopped trying to be happy. I threw away my crayons; I stopped colouring my world, and let everything went bleak. I succumbed to the only thing that’s left of me, the only intact piece among my demolished self – Love.
Owned by Love, I continued living as its slave; Alone in self-banishment; Learning everything Love can teach me every single day. Pen is my hammer; Paper is my anvil; Ink runs through my veins. I am now a Wordsmith in training; In a world of Black and White.
If you ask, what colour is Love?
I’m not sure.
But it definitely is not Black.
My Love for you wasn’t tainted by Darkness.
It is actually as bright as the light itself.