my careless contagion

There is something destructive in love. At least, for me, there was always something destructive. Maybe I should say there is something self-destructive in love. It's a passion that can make one lay all else aside to chase it. The right woman can start a fire in a man that is never-ending. Or it can last for a moment, and then it's gone. There are parts that are never the same again. As a man who loves hard, I can say the loss of love comes even harder. Choosing the wrong woman is just another form of self-destruction. I can't see through the veil of anger right now. I can't see my future. I am wrapped — as with a blanket — in pure hate. I hate myself. I want to die. There is so much self-hatred inside me right now, it feels like it will explode. The reasons have become clear. I've had so many self-destructive habits (like smoking, drinking, workaholism, etc.). I've wanted to erase my existence for as long as I can remember. Where did all of this hate come ...

  How such a rich forest of emotions grew up overnight, I'll never know. Without care and without tenderness, all around me it grew. It was like a scene from a movie, only it was real and I was in wonder. I was no jaded audience member whining about the CGI. It was as real as the pin-pricks of a freshly-picked rose's thorns. And just as easily as it sprang up, it cried out for water. The shallow roots of the tender plants weren't strong enough to hold them over until the next rain. The fields grew tired and wilted, cried out and died a drawn-out death.  I knew it was all too good to be true. Things like that don't happen to me. Love like that doesn't just come into my life. It was over before I realized it, before I even had a chance to enjoy it. It was almost like a dream, like I had simply imagined it. I was left with the things that had grown around me — trees almost as tall as the sky itself and undergrowth that was once flowering and beautiful — but they w...