Friction

Prose.

Writing is merely friction, is it not? A pen pushing against a paper, leaving a trail of ink, thoughts, dreams, ideas, and facts behind. Yet, I'm still not used to this kind of friction, the one caused by these words as they leave my brain to my hands. Words used to flow through me before I... before I... before. Now, I have to force them out, like the last few drops of toothpaste in the tube, before you throw it out.

 

I have no regrets. I have no fear. I have nothing more to say. I've had no regrets. I've had no fear. Before I've... before I've... you've broke me, left me in shambles. I hate you. I really hate you. O’ Hermes, the words flow again. I wrote before of great desire. I wrote of the beauty and the beast. I wrote of the night queen in the forest. I wrote of the tiger in the jungle. I wrote of love, lost and found, true and fake, eternal and temporal. I wrote of all that before I… before I myself was burned by the great blaze of love.

 

Oh how I hate you. I hate love. Now I can only write of hate, though I’ve vowed never to. Still, I want to thank you. I’ve never wrote of hate, with any conviction. I’ve never put any thought into it. I’ve never really explored that one emotion I’ve viewed as useless. Hate was never worth the effort for me. Now, I love to hate. Who said one cannot find beauty in hate?

 

Hate is the strongest emotion I’ve felt. I’ve always thought it was love, but when I’ve really loved, I discovered that love is only the strongest form of hate. Hate is driven by all of man’s desires. There’s no greater feeling of satisfaction than seeing those you’ve once loved get hurt. A concept so cruel, that only the Germans could find a word for it. Schadenfreude. The word itself brings great joy to my heart. I’ve become both beauty and beast.

 

I have died. I’ve had great love for you, and when all this love turned to hate, it was too much hate for one man to handle. I’ve died and become your Frankenstein. O’ Hermes, the words flow again. I may never love you again and I may never be the person I once was. But as long as the words flow, I know I’ll love again.