I had given up on love. I had sworn to myself that no matter how sweet the wine of love would be, I'd never taste. I'd taken a cut and dried decision never to love again; love was a bitter pill which made me want to puke my veins out. Love was a battlefield; one which was accustomed to my unparalleled swordship. But I had fought severally, and I had lost it all. I had given it my all, and I'd had my heart torn into shreds and smeared across my pale face. So I had made the vow, never to love again.
The thing with love is; it comes unannounced. It is mostly sandwiched between when you are basking in unsavory solitude or when you are emotionally in need of company. It coaxes you and lures you into its ark of beauty. It takes over you niche by niche and by the time you jolt to realisation, you have being enchanted and caged by its facade palatability.
Unlike many kids of my age, I grew up not knowing the man who fathered me. I lived with my my mother; who was my one and only family. Not having my father didn't bode so well for me as my mother felt the workload on her was too much to bear. Occasionally anger would flare up inside of her and she would take it out on me. She would spit her guts out: call me names, throw me out, make me sleep on am empty growling stomach and what have you. I could never recall a moment when she took me under her umbrella and showered endearing motherly love on me. So I grew up not knowing a mote about motherly love, talk-less of love as a universal term. It wasn't in my dictionary at all.
All through Junior High School, I never boasted of people I could call friends. Well, I had the usual on-and-off cronies who occasionally waved at me and left for their homes which mostly beamed with parental care and love while I trotted begrudgingly to my hell-hole. Mostly I withdrew myself from the midst of people whenever I felt the world's eye on me. I would either take my favourite story book and read or I'd coil up into a pit of tears around a corner. That was pretty much my life summed up.
However in secondary the tables would turn for the better. I would meet Helena and my whole life would take a mighty turn. She would make me understand that not everyone I saw on campus was as fiendish and sinisterly as my mother. She would help me enormously and that would eventually be my weakness. I had fallen in love with her, even though she wasn't axiomatically the most enthralling girl on campus, there was something about her which made her stand out from the rest. Maybe it was because she showed a certain infinite passion and care which I loved to think of as "love". Well I did a few searches about the mystery which was the highlight of my life (love) and learnt a lot. It led me to conclude that love was real, though seldom did it come in genuine form. I'd get lost in her love world and we would drink love's fine wine for the most part of secondary school.
But eventually she left for the States and I never saw nor heard from her again. Some months later, I learnt that she had come back because she couldn't adjust to life in the States. It hurt me so much that she never cared to check on me despite having opened my eyes to the sweetly sharp effect of love.
It was as far as my story with Helena went. I completely moved on from her; though the road was bumpy with pothole reminders of the amazing times we shared lost in each other's love. The event also opened my eyes to the sharp reality of love: no matter how sweet love is, it has a bitter part which is the bane of love's destruction. I would fall in love severally and would have my heart broken on those occasions. Never did I have the temerity and coldness to break someone else's heart. I was always at the receiving end of the poisonous bite. It was the rationale behind my decision to never open my heart to any girl. 'Never again would I do that', I decided.
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Khojo
It was quite emotional. Wished Helena could stay for real for life; sometimes understanding this four letter words is really complicating you know. Such they say is life. Nice you shared your experience. @khojo, your article on "Broken" is closely related to my love poem i dropped in recently title "THE HEARTSTRINGS ".
I admire the dramatic scene you created in my mind, the sweetness and bitterness of love you painted. This is superB!!!!
Thanks....u make me blush really
This guy ehn... So you are in love now...
Yes or No
No...I mean yes
No....i mean yes
Indeed touching.... ❤ left to me, i dont believe in true love, lot of love stories av had... And later they ends with stories that touch...Nice story khojo
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