Hannibal Lecter’s Whore, Blog of

even in the wee hours of the morning, you lie awake, sensing every possible movement around you. the silence is so deafening. something seems to be living INSIDE your brain that you just can’t control.

then you move sideways in hopes of regaining slumber. yet you just can’t. and though your eyes are dropping and you feel like shit, you seem to like the idea that you are AWAKE while everybody is asleep.

in silent reverie you discover another world — the world that not all souls have been there mainly because they were asleep. the night breeze touches your jawbone as you sit down, and you SEE beyond the darkness.

Then you see this person. you have seen him before, and you reckon that maybe he’s that lovely monster that has been keeping you awake. All the while you thought that he had left you, but how come you can SEE him there, standing right in front of you with that beaming smile. You couldn’t utter even a single word (you weren’t even aware if you’ve been breathing) because the happiness is so intense that you doubt if you are still awake, or you’ve just been dreaming.

Yet he is ACTUALLY there. You stared to each other. So long that you feel like staring, after all, is the most fulfilling thing to do. and you begin to believe that single stare would never happen again, ever.

You feel his presence; the whole world seems to be of no importance anymore because all you wanna do is just STARE at him. HE IS HERE, your mind says. after all that waiting, HE IS FINALLY HERE.

then something rattles, and your oblivion was suddenly intercepted with annoyance. you look behind your back to see what it is. and you did this with so much anger. Why would somebody interrupt such a magnificient situation?! You cursed, and suddenly realize that he was gone.

you searched the entire four-poster crying because you know this will never happen again. your sobs filled the room. Your dearest roomate turns on the light oblivious of what is really happening.

"He’s gone." And those are the only words you can muster.

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life. You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like "maybe we should be just friends" turns to a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain.

I hate love. Why did your God create it?

To HURT you, that is. Poetic it may seem, yet Neil Gaiman is absolutely right. At first instance love seems to be fiction, yet later you’ll realize it’s becoming true, strangely true. Good thing I haven’t been to a point of utmost passion that unhinges even my soul.

I hate love. I hate it more than anything else in the world. How I wish it’s as easy as breathing, but I know it will never be.