if giving up for the love that makes us alive means giving up to life, then i must say i am into death.
at my young age, which was 14, my mother used to lecture me about boys, boy, and boys. she would sit right next to me with a stick that she uses to hit me when i'm not giving her my full attention. curiosity always kill, they say, but in my own experience, curiosity is something you can feed your mind. the day i turned 18, my mother stopped lecturing me about boys, and she started locking herself inside her room; sobbing and silently battling alone.
a day or two, i got curious so, i knocked on her door. a loud, echoing voice was given to me as an answer; filled with sadness and hatred. i forced my mom to let me in her comfort zone. i honestly want to know why she was alone. i'm open for everything she'll say, even as she curses all the way. she is the most precious woman i've ever met yet the most destroyed person i've ever heard of.
i started to wonder, day and night. i don't know but the truth is yet to come. all my questions were answered when a man broke into our house, looking for my mother. i froze in between yelling and smiling; my mother surely knows this prince. one, two, oh three, they saw each other and hug them free. my mom, what's happening?
“my girl, i shouldn't warn you about how boys might cause you destruction as every person is undeniably different. i should have warned you about yourself, because your choice will always be the top of the list.”
￤art of undeniable love