Love, Power and Slavery

May 1, 2018
By strivingweeaboo BRONZE, Harlem, Georgia
strivingweeaboo BRONZE, Harlem, Georgia
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Life, Stormy says, is not about how fast you run or even with what degree of grace. It's about perseverance, about staying on your feet and slogging forward no matter what." -Odd Thomas; Dean Koontz


A warm feeling that starts in your chest and travels throughout your body. It fuzzles your brain and churns your stomach. It makes your knees weak and your hands uncontrollable. It makes you spout words without thinking. The feeling that flips you around, shakes you around, and demands your all. It exhausts you, while empowering you. You forget yourself. You change from you to our. You completely involve yourself in them. Love makes you feel vulnerable and, strangely, powerful.

Power helps you feel in control, makes you feel worthy, important. You feel on top of the world. You change. Your power alters your thoughts, speech, yourself. You become cruel to those you cared about. You turn away from what you know to accept what you can't understand. You absorb someone else, and they take over. Your beliefs become lies you were fed by untrustworthy people. Until you realize. And you start to feel used. You feel dirty and nasty. You become the used napkin of the people you thought adored you. You become the slave of the world.

You feel worthless, unwanted, and disposable. You face cruelty every way you look. All you feel is despair, as you've lost all hope. You wonder how you've made it so far, only to have the world shove you back down. You feel lost, without purpose. You fall into a dark hole made by everyone's evil words. They consume you. You wander, looking for a reason to keep fighting. You become an empty shell of a human being. Until you meet that one person.

The one who returns your hope. The one who understands. That single ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. The person that accepts you wholly. Your salvation.

And that is love. Well, at least to me.


The author's comments:

We had to write this in English class last year and apparently people liked it?


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