Entangled

"These stars of ours were written in darkness and bound with light . . . "

I fell in love with them thirty-five million heartbeats apart and an ocean away. One shaped me at the scratch of a pen and the other remade me with the strum of a note. And the truth is that I loved them both, desperately.

I never foresaw our worlds colliding. How the past and present would crash together and leave us with nothing but a blinding kaleidoscope of pain. How the threads of all of our fates were already so inextricably intertwined from the moment of those first meetings.

And maybe my selfishness is unforgivable . . . of being unable to choose. But they were both selfish enough to love me too. Even when they shouldn't have. That's what they don’t tell you about love though. That it can be a selfish thing, never ending in its demand for the infinity of that one person. Or, in my case, two.

And maybe that makes it okay . . . or maybe it just makes all of our actions all the more unforgivable. Maybe we all should have been better.

I'll let you decide.

Contains mature themes.

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Hljóðbók: 24 december 2024