by Andrea Elizabeth

I could seduce you, but that would be wrong. Instead, I’ll scare you. How? Grizzly murder, ghosts, hostile aliens? No, by not telling you. By letting the unknown lurk right behind your head, dodging your gaze every time you turn around. You know it’s there, you can feel it’s eyes warming your occipital scalp. I don’t have to do a thing but confirm to you that what you know is true. What are its intentions? Your paranoid side says the thing is justifying the torture. Your idealistic side says it’s got your back. Delusions, both. Your pessimistic side denies it’s even there, but you can’t get rid of it and your honest self knows it. Angels are for children, demons for fundies and flakes.

I will tell you what it is, and it’s even scarier than any of the above. It’s love. You hate it because you can’t outrun it, you can’t stop it, and worse, your success at denying it is nothing more than ostrich tactics. You will periodically come up for air and there it is, right behind your head. The sand was a delusion because nothing can separate you from it, even though you beg for it to go away. To placate you it will periodically send a spectre of hatred and destruction. You need this in order to breathe and function. It gives you confidence and makes you feel powerful like a winner. You’d rather conquer with hate than be conquered by love. Why? Because if you stop and let it be, it will drown you. You will be too fast immersed into the lowest depths where your blood will boil and your skin blister till all your flesh and even your bones are torn apart. But not one of your bones will break. This is not mercy because you will want it to end. This is why even Christians want to be cremated. Obliteration is the only escape. The idea of cremation is a spectre provided to give you a mental break from being in love. How we long instead for nothing! Go ahead, scream.