This post is part of a 9-part guest blog series whose author wants to be known as J.J. Moore. I hope you enjoy it. :)
You’ll wake up one day and find out later in the evening that I, the so-called love of your life, died a week ago. When someone who has made you a priority is not a priority to you, and yet you string them along with deceitful crumbs of little hopes, you shrink them. You shrink their heart’s room for loving on.
A thunderous storm comes announcing its intent with theatrical rumblings. But it is the black silence of a quiet plague that wipes out whole civilisations. It is the silent plague that does the most damage. You, my love, are a silent plague.
It is a frustrating anguish to have to slowly hang yourself with the loveless rope that a reluctant lover yanks you by. You try to close your eyes and pretend that they don’t know what they are doing, that they will eventually come around to loving you in all the right ways. But the only dream you should see when you shut your eyes is the foolishness of your heart when it believes that its abandonment is an accident. There are no accidents in love.
Pay attention to the silence, to the sighing and to the truth your instincts never cease to whisper. Pay attention to the noise of the silence; to the siren. Know the plague.
-J. J. Moore