OF LOVE AND VICE
I once told someone that love is a like a bad vice, I wish I know how to quit it. But that time, I was talking about him. Long before, this was spoken in "Brokeback Mountain," I already said this line to someone. *yabang*
Indeed, love is a bad vice. Something worse than smoking. Or drinking. At least smoking affects only your lungs, drinking your liver. Of course, they can also kill brain cells, make your tummy larger, or affect your heart but at least you don’t immediately feel its effects.
Love, on the other hand, seems to affect almost everything, even the tip of your toenails, because it attacks the core of your being, your brain. It affects your lungs because you smoke more when you feel alone. It affects your liver because people turn to alcohol when love fails them. It affects your toenails because when you’re in love, you want to make every little detail perfect, even the tip of your toenails. When you lose love, all you can think of is your broken heart, you neglect your toenails.
The damage done by love cannot be repaired by medication. There are no pills for broken hearts nor are there operations to mend it. It just heals by itself.
When, where, how, and why? Only love can tell when, where, how and why it will go away. It’s not even a choice nor a decision. Those who think they wield power on love to have it at their beck and call or to remove it as they please are fools who can’t tell gold from pyrite. Love is nobody’s slave. It’s more of a spell, a magic, or even a curse.
Love is such a bad vice. The addiction can be so severe depending on how much you enjoyed it. The purer you get, the worse the addiction. And recently, I have discovered first hand, that of all the other vices, it is the hardest to quit.
Now, I officially quit smoking. I have also remained sober for quite a significant period of time, considering my circumstances.
But still, I am a sucker for love.
