Dating : That wasn’t love CWC3

Day 4: Start your text by [Love is…] and finish up with your own view of love and relationships.

Love is the moment before the curtain goes up.

On trembling legs you stand, wondering what will happen during the performance.

You look up, watch the roof high above seemingly closing in.

You’re terrified. You close your eyes and take a deep inhale.

Air fills your lungs, your chest puffs up, you hold your breath and sense your heartbeat thump in your chest.

Slowly, your attention goes south and butterflies ravage your stomach.

It’s painful.

You lower your head but have no courage to open your eyes yet. Instead you open your mind’s eye.

You’re floating, looking from the outside.

Alone and naked, you stand in the spotlight. Vulnerable and cold.

Silence at first, then comes a whisper. More like a sound.

You heard it before. It’s loud now; the endless boos of rejection.

Humiliation pours down like sweat down your fragile skin.

You’ve been here before.

You float around yourself, watching closely as the tears rain over your cheeks.

Out of the darkness comes a hurled tomato.

You’re outside your body but can feel the impact as it splatters on the shoulder.

You try to ask “who did that?” but you have no voice. So you swirl and watch around you, looking at the abyss for the source and find nothing.

Confusion quickly turns to anger as more things are hurled at you — your physical form.

You feel enraged. Then it suddenly stops.

A figure steps into the spotlight with you.

The feel threatened and you’re ready to pounce.

But you don’t — not caring if you could.

The figure slowly begins to sweep the mess around you into the void.

Then this faceless person pulls out a towel and cleans your body.

Anger slowly shifts to caution, to anticipation and finally comfort.

Whoever did so ends with a consoling hug and a gentle kiss on the cheek.

Warmth travels through you and you feel safe again.

Then the figure walks out.

You don’t want them to go, but you can’t call them. You watch them disappear into the darkness.

Suddenly the figure comes back.

You’re shocked that your wish came true, they came back. Although, not really.

At first you think it was the same figure but something is off. It’s just someone very similar.

Before you can finish your observation the figure stabs you in the side, then in the back.

Cold horrific shiver runs through you.

Your body crumbles to it’s knees, hunched over, clutching at the wounds.

You try to shout again but you remember that you can’t. You try and fly into the spotlight but get repelled.

Why are you doing?! you want to bellow out, but unheard you remain.

The pleasure of warmth and comfort dissipate into shock of betrayal.

You don’t feel angry directly, but disappointed for letting your guard down.

The figure leaves.

Yet again, another comes in.

You had enough, you want to go back into your body and fight back.

This time you make it deeper than before, you visualize your spiritual hand reaching out for your body.

Your fingertips brush against your skin and your body convulses.

For a moment you assume control and your physical hand pushes the figure away.

Then you’re sucked out into the void again.

You try to redo, but this time the figure stands in your way.

The faceless visage showcase nothing, but somehow you see a sympathy expression.

You don’t care and try to push past it, to no avail.

The figure turns back to your bleeding form, and gently kneel next to it.

Out of it’s non-existing pocket, it brings out a bottle and some band-aids.

You’re not going to fall for betrayal again and burst straight into your body.

You use whatever strength you have left and punch the figure away, and try to stumble into the darkness.

You strength wanes and you get kicked out.

The weakened body slumps to the floor.

The figure quickly regains balance and goes back to their task.

And despite your conviction, it patches you up.

Without a word, the figure allows you to recover and walks out again.

You feel righteous, but a nagging sense of shame clouds your thoughts.

You reason with yourself only to feel less and less reasonable, but never wrong.

A moment pass and your body finally begins to move.

You gently float back towards it, cautious of being pushed back.

This time you pass effortlessly.

You remain there for a moment, looking closely at your scars, at your stoic and distant expression.

You’ve been here before.

Everything goes black.

A whisper grows in the darkness, a gentle hush gaining volume.

You heard it before. It’s loud now: it’s the cheers of an adoring crowd.

You open your eyes and watch the crimson red curtains before you.

You release your breath.

At the edge of your sight, you notice a figure standing next to you.

You don’t look at it, you don’t have to.

You’ve been here before. You knew what could happen.

The curtains starts to go up, bright light seeping ever so slowly towards your feet.

The world seems extremely sluggish and time is irrelevant.

You wonder what lies on the other side. Will it heal you? Will it hurt you?

It doesn’t matter because you knew that the performance was unpredictable. Love is unpredictable.

Every performance was an art; in tragedy or fortune, but that wasn’t love.

Love is the moment before the curtain goes up.

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I actually enjoyed today’s topic! They say that some things can’t be expressed in words, or words can’t do them justice. I feel love is the same way, but here’s an attempt at it. If you liked it, don’t forget to clap ♥. If you liked my definition of love then don’t forget to share it as well. Till next time ♥