Another Damned Cycle
Listening to love songs is dangerous but if one enjoys music, or worse, needs music, they seem omnipresent.
Love is damned risky, especially at the very end, especially right after the very end, especially immediately after a sudden, unexpected termination.
Physical shock, blinding darkness, a clammy cold feeling dropping from heart to belly, a second that seems to last forever. Then, with a lot of luck, nothing. Finally. Blessed nothingness. A bit of fear perhaps, a bit of trepidation, but with perseverance and a little luck, perhaps one need never fall in love again.
The price for the euphoria, the warm sweet honey flavored soaring just isn’t worth it. For any of the participants. Admittedly though, it’s somewhat worse when one realizes there were no other participants. Still, that makes it that much easier to join the just say no to love movement. Assuming one has a minimum of brains and a modicum of self-respect.
It’s not a twelve step program, just one very, very long drop without the unpleasant finality of a messy splattering. At least not always.
Like a terrible hangover.
Good analogy, first the fun and then, … the price. Exactly like an addiction. If one can manage the withdrawal one may be fine, but if not, …
Another damned cycle.
Damned love songs.
© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2015; all rights reserved