I've fallen in love with you

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

You once said that love makes one brave enough to risk everything, so no matter what, you would persist in love, burn and burn until the very end—your small frame held your arms crossed over your chest, a resolute defensive posture, but your eyes were almost driven mad by fear.
"I'll die without love," you said, staring intently into my eyes. "So don't leave me, not ever."
I bent down slightly in response with a hug, though it wasn't a question. I felt I should say something, but my throat was choked with countless questions: What exactly is love? Is there any standard to measure it? Can you see it? Can you touch it? Can you hear it? If it cannot be perceived by any senses, how can you be sure it truly exists? How can one believe in something so illusory and unreal?
It's almost like some kind of fanatical religion—you sang, you prayed, you sacrificed, but in the end, my dear, what did you gain

—emptiness.
After burning out, you died with empty hands.
My dear, my life back then was a farcical movie. Too many chaotic elements made the script overly bloated and messy. Lacking a clear theme, I and the other actors could only mimic the script, making absurd and contradictory gestures and uttering incoherent lines. I enjoyed it, as did everyone else; after all, the world is especially vibrant through the eyes of a madman. But you refused to join this jubilant revelry, simply raising your head to fill your own sky with words, becoming a solitary, self-rotating little planet.
At first, I didn't notice you. I could only vaguely feel your gaze sweep across my back, sending chills down my spine, before I swiftly retreated into my own world, as if nothing had happened. I was curious about you, but I didn't particularly want to explore you. Curiosity killed the cat, I know that, so I insisted on staying away from your mysterious and forbidden boundaries.
But you crossed them.
Timidly, hesitantly, you crossed the so-called boundary of good and bad to touch me. You said you loved me, said you wanted to fall with me—sayed you were willing to sell the whole world for me—but in the end, all you got was ashes without me and without the world.
I'm sorry.

I'm someone who doesn't understand love; that's the conclusion I drew from my former lovers. They stirred the tides of my soul, then made me embrace, devour, and cling to them like waves, and when I was satisfied and ready to leave, they asked me with tearful eyes: Don't you love me? To be honest, I really didn't know how to answer. I just didn't refuse them. They came and I welcomed them with open arms, but that doesn't mean I would ask them to stay because I'm too attached.
Many friends told me I wasn't wrong, after all, I never promised anything, but I can't shake off that ghostly guilt. I don't want to see anyone's tears anymore, but lovers come one after another, my restless soul needs them to be my anchor to calm me down. Besides not refusing and accepting their teasing like grass in the wind, I don't know what else I can do.
My soul is like a tattered burlap sack, never able to be filled, always empty, forcing me to seek new stimulation. This might be morbid, but it's not entirely abnormal. I'm merely a prisoner of loneliness and emptiness, like countless others in this world.

That night, I locked the bathroom door and turned on the tap, letting the sound of running water echo in the small room. It was somewhat deliberate (the music outside was so loud I had to shout to be heard), but being careful is always better than not. "Don't worry, no one will hear," Simon said, extending his hand. His childlike face smiled sweetly, his reddish-brown hair appearing mesmerizing in the bathroom's dim light.
I took his hand, pulled him closer, and kissed his thin lips. His breath had a slightly sour, alcohol-laden taste. I stretched out my tongue and licked his pierced tongue; the cold, smooth metallic touch excited me. We became entangled tightly. His hands lifted my skirt, and I pulled down the zipper of his pants.
As if dancing a duet, we changed positions in perfect unison. He had me turn around and lie face down on the sink, his hands supporting my buttocks as he entered me. I heard his suppressed moans, deep and masculine. I involuntarily squeezed my legs together, waves of pleasure washing over me, making my legs weak and almost melting into nothingness.
"Ah... Simon..." I felt his lips slide across my sweaty back, his wet tongue and the metal ball moving upwards along the curve of my back, planting fiery seeds on my skin like flames. "Ella, um, you're so tight." He said, nibbling at my shoulder blades. Waves of pain mixed with pleasure from my lower body pushed me to the peak of orgasm. I unconsciously tightened my grip on Simon. His muffled groans seemed both close and far, piercing my soul and making me dizzy.
He slowly slid out of me, leaving me utterly exhausted as I slumped onto the tiled floor. I couldn't care less about the chill that was seeping into my bones; my heart was pounding violently in my chest, as if the world would end at any moment.
I took a deep breath, then shakily got up to touch up my smudged makeup. "Hey, I'm going now." I watched Simon's reflection in the mirror as I fixed myself, wiped the sweat from my brow, and opened the bathroom door. "Bye, I'll call you again," he said. I just waved dismissively.
Finally getting myself presentable, I opened the door and blended into the crowd, but I couldn't escape the suggestive winks and smirks from some people. I didn't say anything, just shrugged and grinned foolishly. The music was still deafening in the dead of night; I bet the police would be knocking on the door soon.
I squeezed past one warm body after another, the air thick with an absurd atmosphere. The environment, though noisy, seemed as quiet as if it had been muted. I let out a long sigh, suddenly longing to go home, take a good shower, hug my cat, and hug you too.

The first thing I saw when I got home was the little nightlight you left on for me by the door. Its dim yellow light, floating on a rose-shaped base, gently illuminated the dark entryway. I quietly took off my high heels and tiptoed into our room. I saw you sleeping alone in the middle of the double bed, slightly sunken into the mattress. The curtains weren't fully drawn, and a sliver of moonlight dappled the silver-gray duvet cover, shimmering like water.
You were curled up like a baby, your pale face half-buried in the blankets. I gently kissed your forehead, brushing away the stray hairs from your face. Even in your sleep, your brow was furrowed, a childlike face bearing an incongruous mature expression—a deep, profound sadness—and then suddenly, tears streamed down your face.
Like a knife slicing your beautiful face to shreds, I kept wiping away the tears with my fingers, but more kept flowing. I felt suffocated. In an instant, your kindness, your tenderness, your forbearance, your sorrow all engulfed me. Guilt dripped onto my soul like raindrops until I had time to look down and saw that I was already riddled with holes.
I felt inexplicable pain, your pain, the pain of many other lovers. I had endured too much, so in the end, I could only crumble. My soul, which had just been satisfied, was now restless again. The gaping hole, forcibly widened by pain, made it impossible for me to remain in your tenderness any longer. I had to escape, immediately, or I feared I would be devoured.
"Meow." I saw the cat nimbly jump onto the bed. It strolled towards me, its mesmerizing blue-gray eyes flashing with some unknown emotion. "Meow." It nudged my hand, its rough tongue licking away your tears. I trembled as I picked it up, watching it purr contentedly in my arms. My turbulent heartbeat began to slow, to calm down.

Darling, I'm back.

"Let me love you, okay?" One evening before the end of the semester, the setting sun cast long, cage-like shadows on the desks and chairs. You, so petite and delicate, your cheeks flushed, said those words to me. Even in my dreams, it was enough to make me wonder. Someone as reserved as you would never say such a thing. I understand you.
"Yes, Ella, I love you."
You pulled me into your arms, and I had to awkwardly bend down to hug you normally. "What's wrong?" I asked.
"Shh—hug me."
I tightened my arms as you said, and you nestled against me, your head resting on my chest, heavy and making it hard to breathe. "Ella, Estella, do you know how much I love you?" Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain as my abdomen exploded. I watched in horror as you viciously plunged a knife into my abdomen, then my chest, then my neck. Powerless to resist, I could only watch as you splattered my blood everywhere, screaming:
"Why can't you love me? Why...why...why...can't...love...me—"
I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. I looked around; it was past two o'clock. The room was dark, with a faint golden slit peeking through the edge of the curtains. You left me a note on the bedside table. It said things like, "Lunch is in the fridge, I'll microwave it myself; the cat's already been fed, remember to buy extra cat food if you're going out; the clothes' been hung up to dry, remember to bring them in when they're dry."
Your handwriting was round and chubby, very childlike and cute. I folded the note in half, then in half again, into a paper airplane and threw it in the recycling bin. Watching it fall, my mood inexplicably improved.

This will be a good day.

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/218184.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=218184&aspx=1

Last access time:

Previous Page : Personal rape

Next Page : first

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

I've fallen in love with you

comment Open a new window to view comments