I draped myself in a shawl named darkness and walked into the shop. My gaze was overly fixed on the person inside, so much so that at the doorway I was nearly kissed by a strange man, yet I didn’t mind.
“How was your Vipassana?” the CEO asked.
“I learned many things,” I replied flatly.
“I’m so curious. Tell me.”
I took a deep breath and said, “I realized that the development of our physical relationship was something I never consented to.”
I think this is where I admire them most: no matter how shocking the message, they never lose composure. There is no fear, no defense, only quiet listening and questions. Sadly, it is only at moments of crisis that they are willing to listen.
“I feel lots of hatred toward you.” In my entire life, I’ve never spoken such heavy words to anyone. But they awakened my darkness, and I have already decided to surrender to it, to become this darkness myself.
We talked for a long time. When they asked how I felt, I felt nothing at all. These destructive words felt like mere facts; speaking them felt no different from saying,
”it’s 8 pm in New York now.”
“So what do you want now?”
“I want to destroy this relationship. Oh no. I want to hurt you. I want you to feel the anger, hatred, and fear that I feel.”
“Why?”
A trace of confusion and shock flickered through their eyes.
“Because they have their own beauty.” When love, admiration, desire, hatred, anger, and fear intertwine into one body, the complexity of human nature carries its own unique beauty. But their world is like a smooth, spotless woodblock, perhaps incapable of understanding this.
Their individualistic love carries freedom and respect. My collectivist love embraces care, giving, and responsibility. I cannot enjoy a freedom that is only mine, just as they cannot perceive the care I give them.
In the end, respect collapses, responsibility mutates, the fuse is lit, and the relationship explodes like a beautiful atomic bomb.
“I’m ready to walk away.” I take a deep breath, feeling pain sizzling inside my stomach, yet I am still able to say it aloud.
We fall silent and gaze at each other three times. Perhaps the longest gazes of my life.
The first time, I see them. I see their firmness, that self-determined firmness unmoved by whatever shape the world may take.
The second time, I see a human. I see that beneath self-centeredness, there remains a trace of hesitation and confusion.
The third time, I don’t know what I I see, maybe it’s love. I see them wanting to speak yet holding back even they loved argue and negotiation. This is the first time they don’t negotiate with me.
Such a long stare. Even now, I remember their expression with perfect clarity.
If they are an angel, then I must be Joan of Arc, unafraid to die for faith. If they are a demon, then I have already become Faust, auctioning off my soul.
Joan of Arc and Faust seem irreconcilable, yet in truth they are brightness and darkness interwoven, the same person, the same self.